


Test My Worth

by ShatterTheNexus



Series: There's No Post on Sundays! [4]
Category: I.O.I (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2020-07-27 14:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 41,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20047654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShatterTheNexus/pseuds/ShatterTheNexus
Summary: How much is your talent worth?- 2 Galleons, a Sickle, and 7 Knuts- Praise and attention- A best friend, maybe a couple bonus stragglersMuggle or witch, Doyeon's stumped.





	1. True or False

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An all-or-nothing kind of answer. You get one shot at full credit or receive a 0%. Yet the statement seems to fit both or neither. You kinda know, but not really. And you kinda care, but not really. There are only two choices. It already seems like an impossible feat.

There is a fine line between individuality and abnormality. Some people strive to make themselves _different_ from the crowd. They want to stand out, be noticed, be praised. They want to be everything, yet nothing like the rest. And then there are those who would do anything to be average, to be _normal_. They’re too different. Or different in the wrong ways. They stick out like a sore thumb, they’re constantly noticed, and are always being put down for it. They want to hide. They would give _anything_ to be just like the rest, and some do.

There is a fine line between individuality and abnormality. Doyeon has been teetering on that line for so long, she wonders which side she will tip over. She waits for someone to tell her.

~|~|~|~

Doyeon is rather tall for her age. She towers nearly half a foot over most of her class. Some of the boys can meet her gaze and for that reason alone, they feel it’s “bro-worthy.” On the other hand, the socially-constructed art of being female requires more subtly. Girls have to crane their necks up at her when she talks, smiling amicably enough. Yet their not-so-subtle gawking and side glances scream volumes. They never say she would look more feminine if she were shorter, but the vibe gets across just fine. It’s not too difficult to fill in the blanks.

Doyeon is also quite lanky. What with the hormones and preservatives put into food nowadays, some kids hit puberty pretty early. That means everyone is painfully aware of their body image, albeit some are more skewed than others. Guys start working extra hard to be good at sports, building what muscle a middle-schooler could build in P.E. Girls start dressing up in pretty clothes and wearing make-up to accentuate their cheekbones (read: cover their acne).

Locker rooms are where things get unintentionally personal. Girls tell Doyeon they envy her metabolism—she never does seem to gain weight. But she also hears comments about body curves. They don’t say it like it’s a competition. It sounds more like an unofficial standard, and Doyeon feels she just doesn’t meet the requirements. So occasionally, she thinks she should put on some weight. Or work out. Or both. In the _right places_. And maybe cut down on her sleep because there’s only so much of her height she can conceal.

She stares hard at the magnetic mirror on her locker door, examining herself. Her high-definition scrutinizing expression blurs from the bottom-up. The reflection of her eyebrows furrows in confusion before there’s no more visibility. The mirror is a translucent white, as if it was foggy. She reaches up to wipe the edge with her thumb, but there’s no condensation. She realizes the fog looks like it’s _inside_ the mirror, blocking her reflection’s view instead of hers. The bell rings so Doyeon puts this nonsense out of of her mind. She slams her locker shut, secures the lock, and heads to class. The mirror stays murky for every class after that, even though the girl next to her sees herself clearly.

One day, she is called to the school’s office during lunch. She sees her parents waiting for her, sitting on cushioned chairs that don’t match the carpet or wallpaper. At this point, Doyeon expects it. But she doesn’t like the feeling any more than usual.

“Mr. and Mrs. Kim, I think Doyeon should transfer schools. These are some places that would better suit her.” The counselor slides some pamphlets across the desk. “We always have our students’ best interests at heart, but this school simply doesn’t have the programs that would be beneficial for your daughter. Unfortunately, our faculty can’t offer the attention she needs, what with the sheer amount of students enrolled.”

It doesn’t feel like she’s being kicked out. Rather, it’s as if someone was searching for perfectly ripe apples at a grocery store. The unappealing ones just kind of, get pushed off to the side.

_And what if _those places_ think I should go somewhere else? Where else is there left to go? What if they say I just shouldn’t go anywhere?_

Doyeon doesn’t realize she’s staring hard at the pamphlets until a corner of one starts smoking. The folds peel back slowly as the glowing orange line singes more of the paper. The counselor notices before it sets off the smoke detector and shoves the pamphlet into her mug of cold tea. She gapes at it, flabbergasted, for a few seconds before apologizing profusely. She stutters out an explanation, blaming it on an exposed wire from the telephone on the desk that she’s been meaning to get fixed. The lady continues the conversation, but Doyeon notices the phone is unplugged. She looks back at her parents listening intently to what options they have to help their daughter. There’s a slow burning ache deep within her chest.

Her parents have to get back to work after the meeting. They don’t say anything about new schools. They don’t comment on her grades or the teacher’s notes written on the report. They don’t even look angry. They look at her with understanding, but she knows they’re panicking on the inside. She knows that they have no idea what’s going on with their daughter nor what to do about it. And to be honest, Doyeon doesn’t quite know herself. They give her some encouraging words, a hug or two, and tell her they’ll make her favorite chicken dish for dinner.

After school, she deliberately misses her bus and opts to walk home. It’s a nice day, the sun’s out but it’s not too hot. This kind of thing usually cheers people up. But she doesn’t feel much different than three hours ago. At most, everything feels duller, but not better or brighter. She figures if she can’t stop thinking about her problems, she might as well try to rationalize some of them.

Her grades are poor, that’s a fact. The odd thing is, Doyeon has a perfect understanding of what she learns in class. She can do all of her math problems without referencing her notes. She’s pretty good with names and dates, so history isn’t much of a nuisance either. It’s at this age as well that students begin mastering the art of BS in literature class. Essays are little more than curriculum checklist items, contrary to what teachers say.

So what exactly was the problem? Motivation? _Hmm, not exactly_, she thinks.

Distractions. Not text messages, Facebook feed updates, or shiny things outside the window. “Zoning out” doesn’t describe it properly either. She was inwardly distracted. Reflecting on it now, it sometimes felt like she had too many thoughts. They would all jumble together, cancel each other out, or fight for dominance. And it ends up clouding her judgment. Other times her mind went blank. Anything and everything felt irrelevant. No thoughts wanted her attention, so she didn’t give any. It was never noticeable until now. Somewhere along the way, she just lost focus. Then the amount of points she’s lost on assignments started piling up.

So here she is, walking home in the pouring rain that mirrors her inner turmoil. _Wait, what?_

Doyeon looks up to find that it is in fact raining, but not everywhere. It’s only raining over her. _But that’s impossible_, she thinks. She inspects at her surroundings, half expecting to have walked right under a filming set’s rain machine by accident. But she’s in the middle of an empty park. She clearly sees the bright blue sky. The wooden playground in the distance looks dry as a bone. She checks behind her. There’s a long streak of wet, darkened concrete leading up to her current position. She walks a bit further and turns back to observe. The streak seems to have ended at the giant puddle she was standing in before. The only thing after it is a set of her footprints. Bewildered, Doyeon walks home under the shining sun, her clothes soaked and her hair dripping at the tips.

For the first time in a while, she has only one clear thought. She’s losing her balance on that line, and the slope she’s peering down isn’t exactly a confidence booster.

~|~|~|~

Doyeon’s parents figure the family should have a nice, long talk. Well, it is nice, really simple actually, though quite short. They ask how she feels about the situation. She shrugs back, honest but not rude. Frustrated? Gloomy? Ecstatic? Desire for change? Desire for constancy? Everything jumbles up as per usual and she ends up feeling nothing. Her parents hesitantly decide to go through with transferring schools. She doesn’t object.

A week later, the paperwork is all set. Beginning next term, she’ll attend the school on the other side of town. She doesn’t tell anyone, there’s no one to tell anyway. Every morning and evening she sees the worry etched on her parents’ faces. She figures the least she could do was try. So she pulls three all-nighters a week for the rest of the month and aces her finals, much to her teacher’s surprise. When she brings her last grade report home, her parents seem to glow.

“I knew you had it in you, sweetheart. This is going to be a great new start for you, I can feel it.”

She forgets about herself, because all she can think about for the rest of the night is how proud her parents are. As she falls asleep, at peace for once, she doesn’t see the garden box outside her windowsill sprout three fully grown flowers, the tendrils of their stems lacing together tightly.

Summer break starts out calmly. Doyeon doesn’t have much to do so she walks around the park by herself. Kids climb all over the jungle gym. Parents push their toddlers on the swings as they exchange neighborhood happenings. The high school students occasionally take over the basketball court. She walks past two kids trying to juggle capsule machine rubber balls. One bounces away into the nearby shrubs so Doyeon offers to retrieve it for them. She pushes aside the thorny branches, not minding the scratches along her arms. She spies the little ball a few feet away, its bright silver paint contrasting with the organic black-brown of the soil. She kneels to pick it up, but tumbles backward in shock when an owl swoops down and snatches the toy with its beak. Her hand scrapes against the exposed roots of a bush in an attempt to break her fall.

She ignores the pain and stares up at the owl now perched in a tree. She lifts her foot to start climbing the trunk when she hears rustling leaves and a gasp behind her. Turning around, she comes face to face with a girl. Well, more like face to chest. The stranger is rather short, even considering Doyeon’s exceptional height. The girl’s eyes snap up to a point somewhere near Doyeon’s nose bridge, flickers to the owl, and then back at her. The girl opens her mouth but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she points at the owl and then at Doyeon with a questioning look.

She glances at the owl too. “The ball?” The girl nods. “Y-yeah, it’s mine. Or, well, I need it,” she tries to clarify.

The girl walks to the base of the tree and holds out her arm expectantly. To Doyeon’s astonishment, the owl flutters down to the human perch and drops the ball into the girl’s hand. Doyeon takes the toy offered to her. Before she can retract her hand though, the girl grabs her wrist, turning it over so that her forearm rotates and her palm faces up. The girl scrunches up her face, seemingly in pain herself.

“They’re just scratches. I’m not bleeding out,” Doyeon assures with a light tone.

The girl lets go and moves the owl to her shoulder. From her pocket, she pulls out what looks like something from a 19th century chemistry set. She hesitantly looks up for permission. _Is she going to drug me?_ Doyeon mentally questions. She scrutinizes the brown substance swirling inside the angular pointed bottle. Then again, she looks to be around the same age as Doyeon, and what eleven-year-old carries suspicious liquids in their pockets? Deciding that there’s little risk involved, Doyeon holds her arm out. The bottle tips forward, its contents dripping over the scratches and the gash on her open palm. The girl bites her lip and her eyes flicker to each wound, as if waiting for something. Doyeon’s eyes widen comically as she witnesses the wounds immediately sealing themselves and fading away under new skin. The girl smirks up at her, but then their eyes meet and her head snaps down to the ground bashfully.

“What sorcery is this?” Doyeon laughs, amazed and grateful for the impromptu medical help.

But the girl isn’t laughing. She’s actually staring straight into Doyeon’s eyes. She’s realized something—something very important. Doyeon doesn’t know what though. Was this too sensitive of a topic?

“H-hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be offensive or anything. Is “magic” one of those taboo concepts?” Doyeon looks at the girl with worry. “I m-mean, it’s not real. It was only a joke, but I’m sorry—”

The girl shakes her head furiously at the apology. In fact, she looks like _she_ was the one who said something offensive. She seems more worried than Doyeon.

An awkward silence befalls them. Doyeon digs the tip of her shoe into the dirt, trying to think of something to say. “So, um, what’s your name?” The girl opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Her breathing seems to get louder and quicker in the secluded area.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.”Doyeon fears the girl might have a panic attack, so she doesn’t ask anything else. Holding up the ball, she says, “I better give this back to the kids over there. It was nice meeting you. And thank you for…” She gestures at her own arm, now peppered with light pink marks. She waves to the girl, turning towards the opening between the bushes.

Before she makes it out in the open, something slams into the back of her head. She turns around in alarm, only to see the owl flying towards the tree. It uses its feet to rebound off the trunk and swerves off to the left. The girl has disappeared from the clearing, Doyeon assumes in the direction the owl went. She turns back and walks up to the spot the owl touched.

Doyeon smiles, it’s genuine. There’s no one else around, nobody is talking, nobody is staring, so she doesn’t have to be polite or act friendly. But she smiles anyway because she wants to. The muscles in her face are starting to ache from disuse and she couldn’t care less. She picks up a sharp rock from the bushes and digs it into the bark. Satisfied with her work, she finally walks out of the shrubbery. The two kids see her coming and cheer in thanks as she hands them the fugitive ball.

The sun begins its descent as the afternoon passes into the evening. Light breaks through the branches and leaves at just the right angle. For a few minutes, it illuminates two words scratched into a tree. One is neatly carved straight across and evenly spaced, as if engraved with utmost precision. The one below it is scrawled hastily, letters jagged, and curves down a bit at the end.

_Yoojung_

_Doyeon_

~|~|~|~

One morning in early July, Doyeon’s parents ask her to buy some groceries before they get home from work. On her way out the door, she hears loud bangs and sees blue smoke billowing from a house down the street and around the corner on her right. There’s a loud _crack _from her left, but she thinks it’s just the aftershock of whatever is going on. She ignores the ruckus and continues down the path to the sidewalk. A man dressed in a casual suit and a long black coat hastily walks past her, shoving something into his pocket but keeping it within his grasp. They exchange greetings before he rushes off towards the source of the noise. Doyeon hopes it wasn’t his house in trouble. She also thinks it’s much too hot to be wearing a coat, but to each his own.

She walks a few blocks towards the main street and into the giant mart. The left side holds all house necessities, the right half displays all of the food items. She browses through the vast selection of fresh produce—it seems like this store sells some 101 varieties, local and imported, much more than anyone cares to notice despite being perfectly ripe and in season. She chooses a good eleven or so vegetables for dinner and avoids the apples. There’s some leftover portions of meat in the fridge so she skips the butcher counter. _We’re out of cereal though_, so she grabs a brand that’s on sale, two-for-one. Examining the drink section, she grabs a refrigerated bottle of coffee. She could use a pick-me-up.

Moving towards the cashiers, she habitually glances down each aisle. She stops in her tracks at the sight of a familiar short girl reaching for a jar of owl pellets one shelf too high for her. Doyeon moves forward to help but a kid crashes into her thigh at top speed. Doyeon loses her balance a bit and her basket falls to the floor, groceries clattering everywhere. The kid simultaneously rebounds from hitting her leg and tumbles back onto his rear, tears starting to pool at the corner of his eyes. She helps him stand up, checking for injuries as his mother comes running over while apologizing. Doyeon assures her it’s alright. The mother lifts up her son and walks back to her shopping cart, placing him safely in the seat.

Doyeon looks back at the empty pet food aisle. Slightly dejected, she bends down to pick up her groceries, but everything is already neatly packed in her basket like Tetris pieces. She places her items on the nearest conveyor belt. The line moves forward and the worker tells her the total cost. As she waits for her change, she notices the bagger place a pack of assorted sweets with her groceries.

“Excuse me, I don’t think that’s one of mine,” she says politely.

“A previous customer paid for it and said to give it to you,” the cashier explains, counting out bills.

“Oh.” She looks around, hoping to catch a glimpse of them. “Do you remember who it was?” she asks.

“A small girl. Actually she didn’t really say anything, she just paid, handed it to me, and pointed at you. She left before I could ask or refuse.” The worker hands her the change.

“Thank you for shopping with us. Have a good day!” The bagger says, handing her the packed groceries.

Doyeon thanks them and loops her hands through the bag handles. She takes a shortcut through the park and is relieved to feel the warm sun on her face instead of spontaneous rain.

She glances down the street where houses around the corner would be. The neighborhood is quiet and there are only light wisps of smoke drifting away into the sky. Whatever happened that morning must have been dealt with. She trudges up the path to her house and stops at the postbox, the flap ajar with envelopes peeking out. She sets down the groceries to empty the box. Most of them are bills, statements, or promotional pamphlets. The two at the bottom of the stack are addressed to her. The first envelope is plain white and has the logo of the school she enrolled in for the upcoming term. It’s probably a notice of policies and her class schedule. The second, however, is thicker and yellow, reminiscent of older times. Her fingers graze over a wax seal with a coat of arms. _How old-fashioned_, she thinks. But she admits it is classy in a sense. She turns it over in her hands.

“Miss D. Kim…” She reads slowly, the deep emerald ink shining in the sunlight. She nearly jumps out of her skin when she hears a loud gasp behind her. She turns around in alarm, her bony arms raised up in defense, the envelope scrunching up in her balled fist. She lowers them slightly when she sees the man wearing the suit and coat from earlier, panting heavily but smiling. He looks at the envelope, then back up at her.

“You’ve got a letter! Oh, your parents must be so proud. I bet they can’t wait to get your supplies!” The man says excitedly, still panting.

He huffs and bends over, supporting his weight with his hands on his knees. When he finally catches his breath, he straightens up and fixes his shirt and tie.

Doyeon, on the other hand, sees red flags and hears warning bells. Who is this lunatic and should she be calling the police? The man seems to realize he was being too forward for social norms.

“Oh, Merlin! Pardon me, where are my manners. I am Lunarius Choi, Obliviator for the Ministry.” He seemed to be close to passing out, whether from exhaustion or enthusiasm, Doyeon didn’t know.

“Hi…” She looks at the hand held out to her, but doesn’t take it. The man seems to deflate at her wariness and slowly lowers his arm. His eyebrows furrow in thought, finally reaching a conclusion.

“You… You’re a Mugg— I mean, you don’t know about… about magic, do you? Ever heard of Hogwarts?” He asks hesitantly.

There’s a hint of familiarity in the way he looks at Doyeon with trepidation, how he’s careful with his behavior now that he’s calm.

Doyeon doesn’t think she should be speaking with this man. She thinks she should abandon her groceries, run inside, and call the authorities to take this stranger away. But she stays rooted to her spot and shakes her head in reply. Understanding flashes across the man’s eyes.

“Ah,” he says, his shoulders relaxing. “I apologize, I must have frightened you quite a bit.” 

Doyeon nods slightly, eyes unblinking and focused. The man seems like much less of a threat now, but her knees remain bent, legs ready to take off down the street if she needs to escape.

“Um, well, where do I even begin?” He sighs, scratching his head. “There’s quite a bit to explain, but I presume you won’t bother to listen to some strange old coot on the street, would you?” He asks rhetorically, giving Doyeon a defeated smile.

She gestures in silent agreement. A few moments pass before he makes a proposition.

“How about this? You open that letter, and I will recite it word for word except for your name. And if I can do this, you’ll accept my business card. You won’t have to ever see or talk to me again if you don’t want to, but at least take the card.” He holds up a small rectangular paper.

Doyeon sees an embossed M in the corner, the words “Ministry of Magic” encircling it. Below it is a larger, red logo with “DM” and “AC” on either side of what looks like two paperclips interlinked. Her silence prompts the man, Mr. Choi, to hold his hands up in surrender. He slowly places the card on top of her postbox before backing away a few steps, ensuring Doyeon has plenty of personal space. She agrees, still not saying a word, still ready to run at any sudden movements. She opens the envelope, taking out the thick parchment. She raises the letter up to where she can read it while keeping an eye on the man over the edge of the paper. The rest of the post blocks the back of the letter so the words don’t show through. Mr. Choi smiles gratefully and takes a deep breath.

“_Dear_…” He dips his head in Doyeon’s direction, but it looks more like a small bow. “_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._”

The man reads aloud dramatically, not making a single mistake. When he finishes, Doyeon realizes her eyes are as wide as saucers and he chuckles at her speechlessness. He gestures kindly towards the business card. She takes it.

“Magic—” Something catches in her throat.

“Is real, my dear,” he finishes softly. “And it runs through your veins, it’s in everything you do and are.” His eyes twinkle at Doyeon, as if he was proudly looking at his own child.

“May I show you something?”

He doesn’t wait for her response, but she doesn’t object anyway. He picks up a rock and looks up and down the street. Seeing nobody on the road or peeking out of their windows, he pulls a stick out of the depths of his pocket. The wood is a handsome dark shade, smooth except for the handle where a shiny metal casing swirls around the base. The hilt has an engraving, but Doyeon can’t read it clearly.

“This is a wand. Every witch and wizard chooses one. Rather, it chooses— Well, I’m getting ahead of myself,” he laughs. “Don’t blink now.”

Mr. Choi holds the rock in his open palm and taps it once with his wand. Doyeon gasps and steps back in surprise when the rock transforms into a beautiful peach and pearl colored conical seashell. He smiles triumphantly, concluding he has persuaded the girl enough to consider not handing over his business card to the “police” as evidence. He offers the shell to her personally this time and she takes it willingly, nodding her head in thanks since she’s still tongue-tied.

“Well, I best be off now. I’m working overtime as is, and my family should be expecting me soon. I do hope you’ll consider contacting me, of course with your parents’ permission. I’d be more than happy to explain everything, save the school staff some time. Word at the Ministry— er, at work, is that there’s a much greater portion of students like yourself this year, who have never heard of magic. They’ll have their hands full for the better part of the month. We can arrange a meeting somewhere public, your family and mine. My own daughter will be attending Hogwarts in September as well. But if you choose not to, someone should come along soon enough and explain everything.”

He sticks his hand out once again, still maintaining some distance. Doyeon risks the chance and shakes his hand firmly. With a wide fatherly smile, Mr. Choi bows and waves goodbye. He walks to the middle of the street before turning on the spot and disappearing with a resounding _crack_. 

Doyeon’s head is reeling from the encounter. She stares at the empty road in awe when her watch beeps on the hour. She returns to her senses and gathers up the groceries to bring inside. After storing everything in the kitchen and discarding the post on the living room table, she runs upstairs to her room with her two letters.

She tears open the envelope from her new school. It looks awfully plain and administrative compared to the _Hogwarts_ letter. Everything is printed in black laser jet ink, the envelope is a sterile white with a very 2D stamp pasted on the corner. Included is a welcome letter, an emergency contact sheet, and a schedule. Doyeon tosses them to the side disinterestedly and picks up the yellow envelope. Pulling the contents out, a small card flutters to the floor. She reaches for it and reads out loud.

_Ministry of Magic_

_Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes_

_Obliviator Headquarters_

_Mr. Lunarius Choi, Senior Obliviator_

Obliviator. He introduced himself as one and said he was working overtime. _So he was called to deal with that noise and smoke in the morning? That involved magic of some sort, so close to home?_ Doyeon wonders. If things like this happened so often that there is a job just for dealing with them, why hadn’t she noticed anything before? But then she guesses it’s _because_ there’s a job for it that she’s never noticed anything before.

She puts the card aside and looks at the Hogwarts letter. It’s straightforward and just as generic as the other school letter, but this has much better aesthetics in Doyeon’s opinion. Or it could just be the magical energetic stranger that came with it. She brings the second piece of parchment to the front. It’s a list of school supplies unlike any she had received before. She needed robes instead of a P.E. uniform and a wand (obviously). Instead of a chemistry textbook and novels for literature class, she had to buy guides for _Potions_ and _Transfiguration_. And there were gloves made of _dragon hide_? Half of these things she’s never heard of, the other half she never thought existed outside of storybooks or museums.

Doyeon considers the situation. Could this be legitimate? There was a whole school for teaching kids magic, real magic, because they were somehow born with exceptional power. They were different, and recruited—_wanted_—because of it. But how does Doyeon fit into that? As far as she knows, she’s never done anything remotely magical, mystical, fantastic, or—

_Strange_. Strange things have most definitely occurred to Doyeon. Small instances that were peculiar. Events that only she acknowledged because whenever she asked for someone else’s opinion, they didn’t think anything was out of the ordinary. Or the sheer fact that anything deemed nearly impossible is accepted to be just that, impossible. And so, most people put the impossible out of their minds. Until reality shakes the ground and it becomes _very_ possible.

The man was real. She had his business card after all. The shell was real, too. Doyeon had personally observed the rock expanding and morphing colors and textures into the shell currently sitting on her desk. And the man had _disappeared_ into thin air, literally. There were no concealing curtains, no trap doors installed into the city-owned pavement. There wasn’t even a sewer lid below him. Perhaps he isn’t crazy, perhaps all of this is just as possible as… as she wants it to be.

She picks up the card again, fingers grazing over the raised lettering. Doyeon never asks her parents for anything. She never expresses a desire to do anything. She is never the first to bring something up. But this…

Doyeon sees an opportunity to clamber back up the dividing wall, to balance on that line again, and maybe look over the other side if she dares. The front door unlocks and her parents’ voices float up the stairs. She’ll take her chances.

~|~|~|~

After dinner, everything becomes chaotic. Her parents refuse to meet with some strange man and opt to call the police. Doyeon frantically collects all of the phones in the house and throws them under the couch, blocking her parents’ path with her long, lanky arms. She begs them for a chance to explain the situation. Her parents are worried out of their wits, but they see a fire in their daughter’s eyes that has never been there before. They agree to talk, and _only_ talk. They watch her zoom up the stairs with a wide grin, shouting down at them that she’s going to fetch the letter from her room. They figure a few minutes of entertaining this idea will be worth her smile ten times over.

As expected, her parents do not believe anything she says. The letter could be junk mail or a prank. There is no way to prove the seashell was once a rock from their front lawn. One glance at the business card sets them off on a string of “these don’t exist” and “this isn’t a real job, it’s not even a real word.” They are at least partial enough to their daughter to call the man crazy instead of her.

Hours ago, she thought the same. She would have been the one dialing the police on all available hotlines with her parents asking her not to be so imaginative. Yet the more Doyeon argues, the firmer she stands on her point. She’s going out on a limb here, but she just needs to _know_ what all this is about. She tries to reason that she doesn’t have to accept anything. They can easily speak with the man—

“—_and_ his family!” Doyeon emphasizes.

—and not believe a thing he says. They can walk away and go back to their normal lives. They can meet somewhere public, with tons of security and buff, agile bystanders who will mob the man if she screams. They can all have the police on speed dial, ready on their screens throughout the whole meeting.

“Isn’t it better if everyone goes somewhere familiar and crowded to talk about this, rather than waiting for someone to show up _here_?” Doyeon reasons.

The man said someone else would come soon enough to explain. Her parents look at each other for answers, drawing blanks themselves.

Mr. Kim sighs. “Honey, there’s no way to contact this—this Mr. Choi—even if we wanted to.” He displays the business card, front and back. Doyeon can hear tires screeching somewhere between her ears. Her shoulders slump.

She hadn’t thought of that. Mr. Choi offered to shed some light on the situation, but never gave a method of contacting him. None of them had ever heard of a Ministry of Magic. This wasn’t something they could just ask around for either. So if they couldn’t walk into the office, or call him in any way, how was she supposed to tell him, “Yes! Spill all the secrets of your world so I can go to this suspicious school!” ?

She stares hopelessly at her Hogwarts letter. And then something clicks.

_We await your owl by no later than the 31st of July_.

Owls. Wizards used owls to communicate instead of a postal service. She doesn’t have an owl. _But Yoojung does,_ Doyeon remembers. But then that meant she was— Was she? The image of a brown bottled liquid crosses her mind and her eyes flicker down to the barely visible pink spot on her palm.

The gears in Doyeon’s head are grinding overtime. Unlike before however, her thoughts are not jumbling up into a heaping mess that fizzles out. They are laying themselves down like train tracks, miles ahead of where her mind is processing everything.

She pleads for just one shot at this and if it fails, she will give it up and go to the school she transferred to. Her parents agree with great reluctance. They watch their daughter bound up to her room, long legs skipping three steps at a time. Their smiles are half strained, half genuine. With a collective sigh, they decide to let Doyeon off dish duty for the night to prolong her excitement. Shaving twenty years off their lives _has_ to be worth her happiness, even if it’s temporary.

When Doyeon reaches her room, she grabs her laptop and flings herself onto the bed. She spends a good hour reformatting her letter, wondering if she sounds too formal or informal. She picks a cafe that has one entrance to a main street and another wall-length open entrance to a popular modern shopping center. There will be an abundant amount of mall security guards and a police station is conveniently located down the block. The ambiance is casual and noisy, loud enough to mask the topic of conversation or play it off as a discussion on creative writing to eavesdroppers. Satisfied with the letter, she prints it out and seals it. Pausing a moment, she decides to copy the information from the business card onto the front of the envelope. She hopes that will be enough. If owls are used for delivering the post, they must be very smart or well trained. She scribbles a short note on a separate paper and places both on her nightstand. She falls asleep feeling productively exhausted.

The next morning, Doyeon shuts off her alarm and prepares to go out. Her parents already left for work. She grabs her things off the nightstand and fills a small pouch with something from the kitchen. Every kid barters treats, she figures, magical or not.

~|~|~|~

Yoojung walks to the park in her neighborhood from the back entrance where there is no walkway. She settles in her favorite spot, a small shaded clearing hidden by untamed foliage with sprinklings of sunlight filtering through the leaves. It’s much cooler here than out on the playground or the grassy field. And it’s far away from people.

It’s not that Yoojung hates people, but they are much too curious for her liking. They like to ask questions. Adults like to coo at kids, asking how old they are and what they learn in school, whether they actually care or not. Other kids are just plain nosy and get fed up when they don’t get answers. She can’t help but feel like she’s being poked and prodded at when someone speaks to her. She feels even more like a specimen under study when everyone looks down at her.

But in this secluded area, she doesn’t have to deal with anyone. She can sit here for hours with just her pet owl for company, that is until someone disrupts her peace. She hears the rusting of leaves and branches, signaling the invasion of her safe haven. She skirts around the bushes quietly, hoping to slip away to another pocket of space. Taking a peek, she sees a tall girl crawl through an opening in the bushes nearest the public area of the park.

_Doyeon. _She smiles, remembering the name written in chicken scratch on the other side of the thick tree she’s leaning against. But she doesn’t dare show herself. She sees the girl search the area. Not for her though, that’s impossible. Right?

“Yoojung?” Doyeon calls out, not so loud as to attract anyone on the playground. Yoojung holds her breath until the girl walks forward.

She hears a sigh and Doyeon crouches down, out of Yoojung’s line of sight. She hears some rocks and wood chips being collected into a pile. She risks a peek, but immediately flattens her back against the tree when Doyeon stands up again. The girl dusts her hands off, takes in the area one last time, and crawls back out towards the main path.

After a few moment of silence, Yoojung emerges from her hiding spot. In the middle of the bark are two carved names. At the base of the tree, a letter, a note, and a pouch sit on top of a neat layer of rocks and wood chips. She crouches down, her owl hooting softly on her shoulder as she picks up the note.

_Yoojung,_

_This is probably really random, and we’re not exactly close, but I need to ask you for a favor. You have an owl, right? I know this sounds crazy, but I need your owl to deliver a letter for me. I’m testing something for a sort of project, and I heard they’re really smart and have a great sense of direction._

_If you don’t want to do it, I totally understand. But I put some candy in the pouch as an incentive, maybe? (The caramel ones are great.) I hope you can help me out!_

_Doyeon_

Yoojung’s forehead creases in concentration. She reads between the lines and has an inkling of what Doyeon really means. She shifts her gaze to the letter pinned against the base of the tree by the pouch. Seeing to whom it is addressed, her suspicions are confirmed. She’s hesitant to take the envelope. _How does she know him? She shouldn’t— She looked like she had never seen Essence of Dittany before_, Yoojung thinks._ And why would she be contacting him?_

She looks inside the pouch. It’s filled with the assorted sweets she paid for at the nearby mart. But there’s also a homemade double-chocolate biscuit on the very top. Yoojung unwraps it and takes a giant bite. The chocolate immediately melts in her mouth, spreading warmth throughout her body. _Well, I guess it’s not my place to ask_.

Clenching the biscuit between her teeth, she gathers the note, letter, and pouch in her arms. She begins walking home, her owl still perched on her shoulder. He doesn’t leave his cage that night.

~|~|~|~

Doyeon’s mother takes her to the dentist for a cavity filling. The assistant jabs at her gum a bit too suddenly. She flinches and the lightbulb overhead pops. Once they get someone to replace it, they give her numbing shots and the drilling starts. Doyeon is okay at first, but then they get closer to the root. The pain shooting up her jaw combined with the screeching of the drill in her ears makes her head buzz. The whole system shuts down, only her station though.

“Not to worry, it’s just an accident,” says Dr. Granger calmly. He seems pretty happy for someone with faulty machinery.

The assistant relocates her to the next cubicle over. She takes the opportunity to ask for another injection. The rest of the appointment goes smoothly enough. She leaves with her mouth feeling swollen, her lip drooping slightly on one side.

Doyeon’s throat is parched by the time she gets home. She doesn’t trust her facial muscles yet, so she fills a glass with water and sips through a bendy straw with the functional side of her mouth. It’s exceptionally hot today and their air conditioner can’t keep up. Something swoops into the house just as her mother opens a window. Doyeon hears a shriek and feels something thump the back of her head. She jerks forward from the impact, water dribbling out the corner of her mouth. She turns around in time to see an owl circle their kitchen and aim a letter at her face. It glides over a shocked Mrs. Kim, who promptly shuts the window after it.

Doyeon picks up the letter from the floor. Her mother shuffles over, hand still over her pounding heart.

“What in the name of—” she huffs.

“It’s the guy! The Obliviator!” Doyeon gasps.

She tears open the envelope and summarizes the handwritten letter. Mr. Choi agreed to the meeting time and place, citing his excitement in their families getting to know each other. He is thoroughly pleased that she took him up on his offer and will do anything he can not to break this initial trust.

“He understands the position of a…” Doyeon squints at the crossed out word and skips it, “non-magical individual, and ensures he will do his best to answer any questions we might have.”

“I would like to start off with the bird of prey…” Her mother trails off.

“_P.S. Sorry about the owl, it must come as a shock. But the regular post isn’t as efficient and I felt you needed a response as soon as possible_,” Doyeon quotes with a sheepish grin.

Her mother starts spewing all sorts of questions and concerns she wants to bring up to Mr. Choi, but her voice fades into background noise. Doyeon breathes in slowly. This is really happening. It felt good to be active in her life, to consciously choose something. For once, she feels in control.

~|~|~|~

Doyeon eagerly walks ahead of her parents, weaving through the crowd. She spots Mr. Choi scanning the waves of customers outside the cafe entrance. He is dressed much more casually, fitting for the summer weather. Doyeon assumes his previous black outfit was a sort of uniform at his Ministry. He waves them over and greets Doyeon’s parents politely. He shakes Doyeon’s hand with more familiarity, but still keeps a bit of distance as a precaution. He leads them inside to the line while making small talk, offering to treat them in return for meeting with him. Doyeon doesn’t pay attention to the three lightly bickering about money and being a bother, in that distinctly adult way. After they pick up their orders, Mr. Choi directs them to a table with slightly more buffer room near the window. Two people see them coming and stand up to greet them.

“Mr. and Mrs. Kim, this is my beautiful wife,” he introduces.

“Pleased to meet you.” Mrs. Choi shakes their hands and then beams at Doyeon, who almost meets her at eye-level, greeting her as well.

“And here,” Mr. Choi gently nudges someone out from behind him. “Pardon, she is a bit shy with others. This is my daughter—”

“Yoojung,” Doyeon says in surprise.

Yoojung glances up from the ground and gives her a smile. She timidly greets Doyeon’s parents, not making a sound.

“Oh, you two know each other?” Mr. Choi looks between the two girls.

“We met once or twice,” Doyeon says, eyes fixed in front of her.

“What a coincidence!” He says happily. “You two are the same age, in fact. You both received the letter this month. Well, let’s all settle down before we get into that.” He gestures for everyone to take a seat.

After the initial exchange of pleasantries, everyone falls into awkward silence. Mr. Choi nods at his wife, who seems to have prepared something to start off the conversation.

“Mr. and Mrs. Kim, what we would like to do is ease your family into this new world, for lack of a better term.” She smiles. Hearing no objections from them, she continues. “You and I are ‘Muggles,’ members of the general populace who do not possess any magical abilities,” she lowers her voice slightly at the end. “Doyeon and Yoojung are witches, and my husband is a wizard. They do possess that innate power.”

It sounds simple enough, but Mrs. Choi knows her explanation is loaded. She pauses a few moments for the Kims to digest this.

“I want you to understand that I was once in the position you are currently in. I had no prior knowledge that any of this existed, not until I met my husband. It is a lot to deal with, but I could not have hoped for a better family.”

The sincerity in her voice is enough for Doyeon’s parents to let their guard down a bit.

“And nobody, the general populace as you say, ever catches on to this sort of thing?” Mr. Kim asks curiously.

“For the most part, no. That is my job,” Mr. Choi says. “Our community has a form a government that parallels the Muggle one. Likewise, we have our own set of laws, one of them being the Statute of Secrecy. In short, we make sure what we do is kept hidden. Of course there are exceptions, such as close family and friends.” Doyeon’s parents nod in understanding.

“I am an Obliviator. I was on an assignment when I met Doyeon.”

“You were dealing with those loud bangs and the smoke down the street,” Doyeon interjects.

“Exactly. It is my priority to alter the memories of Muggles who witness…” He trails off.

“Magical accidents and catastrophes,” Mr. Kim finishes slowly, trying to keep up.

Mr. Choi nods. “We make sure nobody is hurt and nobody remembers. It sounds malicious and manipulative, but magical or not, human life is valuable. Merlin knows the world would go down in flames if we were ever found out,” he shudders at the thought, forcing it out of his mind.

“Now, about Hogwarts,” he begins. “This is a school based in the United Kingdom for educating young witches and wizards, such as our daughters. I graduated from there, myself. Each eligible child receives an acceptance letter the summer of or after their eleventh birthday. Of course, you can choose to decline. Some prefer the Muggle lifestyle. Others simply wish to be educated elsewhere.”

“Let’s say we agree to send Doyeon,” Mrs. Kim prompts.

“If Doyeon chooses to attend Hogwarts, she will receive seven years of magical education. The curriculum will foster her understanding of our community, prepare her for a career in our world if she so wishes, but most of all it will teach her to control her magic. That, I believe, is of the utmost importance. A witch’s or wizard’s reluctance to attend does not stamp out their innate abilities. There’s always a possibility something could go wrong. Of course, it usually is nothing drastic and the Ministry can take care of such instances. It is my hope, however, that all three of you are able to make an informed decision about this.”

Listening to Mr. Choi, Doyeon feels something expand in her abdomen. It’s uncomfortable. She finds herself standing on a line again, but dividing what, she doesn’t know. She’s too preoccupied by everything swarming around her head to look down the slopes.

“Honey?” Mrs. Kim circles her arm around Doyeon’s shoulders.

“Let me guess, you’re worried you don’t have what it takes to go through with everything, with fully integrating yourself in the wizarding world,” Mr. Choi says softly.

Doyeon nods. It’s a lot more to consider than she initially thought. What if she’s not competent enough, or she has some odd quirk that she’ll never have control over? What if it’s too late to go back to her normal life and she’s shunted to some outcast school because she’s already delved into the secrets of _their_ world? Could she really make it _her_ world? Suddenly, she doesn’t feel like she’s been invited. She feels like she’s intruding.

She refocuses her eyes enough to catch Yoojung staring at her. She doesn’t look away this time. Instead, she reaches for Doyeon’s hand across the table and places it around the drink between them. The opening of the door constantly wafted warm air into their corner. The condensation on the outside of the cup drips down Doyeon’s palm. She wishes it was cold. Lukewarm coffee is disgusting. She hears her parents gasp on either side of her. She sees Yoojung smirk. It’s the same proud expression she had when healing Doyeon’s injuries at the park. Doyeon follows the other girl’s gaze to the cup, its contents completely frozen. She lets go and it begins to melt, forming little coffee icebergs.

Mr. Kim gapes. “How did that— Who…”

“Me.” Doyeon says simply, smiling at Yoojung.

Yoojung mirrors her expression, nodding once firmly. _You_.

And that’s all Doyeon needs.


	2. D) All of the above

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The person who finishes an exam first is either really confident or has completely given up. Similarly, the answer “All of the above” is chosen by two kinds of people. (1) You are absolutely sure that all of the previous choices answer the question. (2) You’ve never seen these words as long as you’ve lived and hope for gravity’s sake that they are all correct. Sometimes, you even waver between the two. In that case, you feel twice as miserable—absolutely uncertain and questionably sure.

Doyeon heaves her trunk onto the luggage rack above, right next to Yoojung’s. On the other side of the compartment, Somi lobs Sohye’s belongings over her head with minimal finesse.

“Why do you have so much stuff? We literally wear three outfits the entire year, we’re sharing books, and you don’t even own a pet,” Somi huffs, tossing a third bag over the rack guard.

“You never know what will happen. You have to be prepared for everything,” Sohye reasons, her eyebrows rising automatically whenever she gets worked up.

“We’re _witches_! We can magic nearly anything we need! And if we can’t, it probably means we deserve the detention anyway!” Somi collapses onto the seat.

Yoojung tries to hide her airy giggles behind the owl in her lap. The two are forever bicker buddies and never fail to put on a show for anyone in the vicinity.

“We’ve barely left the station and you’re at each other’s throats. Sit down, you’re taking up too much space!” Doyeon shoves Sohye into her seat before she can insult Somi.

Doyeon picks up the owl cage and places it snugly between the trunks. With a final sigh, she plops next to her best friend, mentally exhausted. For dramatic effect, she slides sideways until her head rests on Yoojung’s shoulder, her long limbs splayed everywhere. Dumb and Dumber don’t care as they continue arguing. Doyeon doesn’t bother interrupting, they’ll get tired eventually.

Doyeon opens her eyes when she feels the owl’s talons rest lightly on her thigh. The golden name tag clasped to his foot glints in the sunlight. _Jinyoung_. After their first few months at Hogwarts, Doyeon and Yoojung went home for the Christmas holidays and had a joint family celebration. Doyeon felt it was only right to give Jinyoung a present too. So she prepared an engraved name tag and a shiny silver ball, for sentimental reasons she’s sure the bird understood. Owls were quite smart, magically associated ones even more so.

Allowing him to nibble her finger, she welcomes the wave of nostalgia. Doyeon thinks of how much has changed over the past three years. Yoojung’s parents invested so much time into helping her family adjust to magic. And when it was time to send off the children, Yoojung took responsibility for her without question. She assimilated quickly enough. It was strangely exhilarating to feel one with the crowd, that crowd being completely different from the rest of the country. They were average outliers.

Every student in her year worried about their own magical mishaps, laughed at each other’s accidents, and offered support for each other’s concerns. Doyeon was happy where she was, with what she was doing. And when she wasn’t, Yoojung would pop out of nowhere, silent as ever.

Yoojung. The epitome of the phrase “actions speak louder than words.”

Doyeon has never heard her talk. Sometimes she would yelp in surprise or laugh out loud. But Yoojung has never spoken above a whisper, and even that was rare. Professors were thoroughly amazed. She was determined not to speak in class. She was so determined, that she was the only first-year to cast nonverbal spells in Charms. Much to her chagrin, students of all years flocked to her for advice. Doyeon lifted her up by the waist and carried her out of the room whenever this happened. But she still wanted to hear the shorter girl’s voice. By the end of their second year, Doyeon thought she would put it on her bucket list.

Then there’s the other half that Yoojung lived up to. From their first week, she made sure Doyeon was understanding everything. They would spend hours in the library adjusting Doyeon’s wand waving and proofreading essays measured by length and not by pages. When they felt suffocated, they would sneak out to the Quidditch pitch and fly around leisurely until dusk. Words couldn’t carry in the wind. At times like those, they treasured the silence.

There were two things Yoojung always did that Doyeon loved.

One made Doyeon feel better. Doyeon was still as tall and lanky as ever. She could see clearly over the crowds in the corridors and sometimes blocked the students sitting behind her. (She has since learned to choose a seat at the back of the room.) Whenever Doyeon was in the mood to whine, she’d ask Yoojung if she really was such a burdensome Treebeard. (She also takes credit for forcing her friend through a movie marathon about the turmoil of Middle Earth.) In that case, Yoojung would pull her into an empty classroom, stand on a chair, kiss the top of her head, and whisper a resolute “No” as she cradled it.

The second thing made Yoojung feel better. Doyeon had plenty of practice reading Yoojung. It wasn’t like they made a secret language. They were just incredibly in sync. People always thought since Yoojung never spoke, she didn’t want to listen to anyone either. For the most part, they left her alone for fear of bothering her. And while everyone enjoys some peace and quiet, it can be quite deafening in excess. Doyeon held the title of Yoojung’s Personal Chatterbox. So when they weren’t _being_ crowded but there _was_ a crowd, Yoojung led Doyeon to the top of the Astronomy Tower. They would dangle their feet off the balcony and Yoojung would tap Doyeon’s knee, as if pressing a play button. Doyeon would talk about anything and everything under the sun, Yoojung hanging on her every word.

Doyeon breaks out of her reverie and looks out the window. The sky outside is a smear of red and orange. Then the prefects come knocking on compartment doors. Everyone stands up and stretches, cracking their stiff joints. Doyeon pulls Yoojung’s robes out of the trunk above before searching for her own. Somi does the same and drapes Sohye’s robes over her like a tent.

“Fourth year, bring it on bitc—” Sohye slaps the back of Somi’s head with her loose sleeve.

~|~|~|~

Doyeon’s first three years at Hogwarts were fantastic. She passed her classes with flying colors. She hasn’t been in trouble once, though Filch insisted she kicked Mrs. Norris. She fled the scene when Sohye barreled down the corridor with Somi’s hat on fire, the taller girl shooting sparks at her rear end. Doyeon’s friends were actually quite useful once in a blue moon. On top of that, her parents were always eager to hear how she was doing. She knows they have heard the stories the thirty previous times, but they still look at her like she’s the most precious thing on earth.

Now Doyeon wonders if she was a fool to believe it would last. As soon as term starts, she thinks the students have bathed in puberty serum 2.0 over the summer. Their whispers are louder, their stares more judgmental. People notice things, insignificant things. But the more they take notice, the more significance they impose on it. Doyeon doesn’t like how this feels. She doesn’t like how _familiar_ this feels.

It was incredible feeling the same as everyone who was different. At Hogwarts, she was _perfectly average_. But Muggle or magical, Doyeon figures people will want to deviate eventually. They just happen to want it at the same moment. The average is shifting, increasing, surging forward. This time, she wants to keep up with the crowd. She will try to be different, just like everyone else.

The best way to be individualistic is to be true to yourself. Doyeon doesn’t quite know what that means, but acting on instinct seems to be a good place to start. Instinct—an automatic response, no processing involved, innate. Also known as a gut feeling and phrases of the like. It supposedly expresses your true nature. It seems like a lot of waiting around for the right moment, in her opinion. So it also doesn’t seem too different from what she did before joining the wizarding world.

~|~|~|~

“Let’s be productive this year!”

“I always do my homework, unlike someone.”

“For the last time, it wasn’t my fault. Somi charmed my essay to fly straight into the lake. Anyway, I meant let’s get more involved!”

“We live at school, how much more involved can we get?”

Ignoring the morning sass, Sohye drags Doyeon to the message board in the common room. When they approach a flyer on the left, the plain white background bleeds into a pastel radiation before their eyes. The borders bloom into lightly scented flowers.

_Herbaceous Flirtatious - Masters of charm with flourishing flora_. Doyeon recognizes one of the boys who signed their name on the registration sheet. The last time he asked a girl out for Valentine’s Day, his bouquet had tangled its retractable, thorny vines in her hair. Jieqiong wasn’t too happy about that.

“Hey, there’s a book club,” Doyeon points out.

“_Pages with Peeves. Want revenge on that blasted poltergeist? See how many books you can throw at Peeves without getting caught by Filch. Don’t have any? Not to worry, we’ve got piles of copies of _Hogwarts: A History._ Prizes will be raffled off at each meeting, held bi-weekly_,” Sohye reads. The registration list is full, some names are even written in the margins at odd angles. They share a look and scoot over in sync to the next set of club advertisements.

_Brew a Bang - Prank your pals, dazzle your date, or make money off Muggles, whatever works._ The president is admittedly a talented potioneer-in-the-making. He also has a penchant for pyrotechnics. Rumor is he’s negotiating a specialty branch for Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes once he leaves Hogwarts. If it doesn’t work out, he’s supposedly going to sell “liquid fireworks in a bottle” to Muggles.

“Duel… Dancing…?” Sohye squints to read the crossed out words.

“_Just no,_” says Doyeon, quoting the scribbles next to the club name. “Brimming with school spirit yet?” She sighs. 

Sohye clicks her tongue. “Remind me never to speak to you before noon,” she mutters.

A soft chuckle escapes Doyeon’s throat and Sohye cracks a smile, knowing her friend is only teasing. She moves over to read the other posts about _Creature Care_ and a petition to put a mural on the castle wall.

“How does _Magical Munchies_ sound? None of us can cook and Somi won’t teach me after I almost impaled—“

A girl nearby looks around, then at Sohye and points at herself, confused.

“Oh! Sorry, I thought you were someone else,” Sohye says.

The girl nods and walks around her to sit by the fireplace. Backtracking, Sohye finds Doyeon staring at a notice in the middle of the message board.

“I didn’t take you to be the athletic type,” she comments. “Why the sudden interest?”

“Doesn’t everyone like Quidditch?” Doyeon wonders out loud, more to herself than to Sohye.

“Watching it is alright. Never felt like playing,” Sohye shrugs.

Doyeon recalls spending the day with Yoojung two summers ago. Though half-blood, the shorter girl spent more of her time playing Exploding Snap or flying around. Muggle games seemed mundane in comparison. Doyeon figured they should break their streak of couch potato-ing and decided to teach her how to play basketball. Doyeon was often chosen by the boys at her old school during P.E., since she was tall and they were competitive. This didn’t win her much favor from the girls though.

They flew to an isolated park shielded from the town by a hill. It was safe, but it was just too far for any kid to bother coming by. They set their brooms behind a bush and Doyeon took her position in the middle of the court. After Doyeon blocked another of Yoojung’s shots, and made a slam dunk herself, Yoojung decided it was no longer fun. It took another five minutes of convincing and a bet for ice cream to get one last game started. Doyeon expected Yoojung to intercept her shot by jumping. Instead, Yoojung dove for her feet. Doyeon toppled over with her limbs sprawled out on the ground. She heard the basketball bounce and come to a halt at the edge of the grass. Standing up and dusting herself off, she turned to retrieve the ball, but it was gone.

An unfamiliar, unladylike guffaw filled the air. Looking up, she saw Yoojung on her broom, spinning the basketball on her finger. With a teasing grin, Yoojung tipped the ball into the basket with a swish. A “Foul!” was on the tip of Doyeon’s tongue. But seeing how happy Yoojung was, she laughed along and bowed deeply in defeat. She went to get her broom and they flew back towards town for a cold treat.

Sohye’s voice shakes Doyeon out of her memories. “Which position are you thinking of?”

Doyeon hums in thought before taking a spare quill and signing the Hufflepuff team tryout list.

_Doyeon Kim, fourth-year - Chaser_

The next week, Doyeon dresses in sweats and walks down to the pitch. Her friends sit in the stands to cheer her on. Donning her Gryffindor team robes for convenience, Somi screeches her support loud enough for both Yoojung and herself. Sohye tries to keep the girl from embarrassing them too much. Yoojung ignores them and just pumps her fist in the air when Doyeon looks over.

“Morning, everyone! I’m Kelsivalla Lockthorn, Captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team. But just Kelsi is fine. We’ll be holding preliminary tryouts for each position separately, judged by former team members. This will test your basic skills. The final round will put you in a full game setting to see how well you work together, and with other players and distractions on the field. Great turnout this year, I hope everyone puts in their best effort. Let’s begin!”

Doyeon joins the students crowding around Kelsi and Tobias, the remaining Chasers from last year’s line-up. The students are sent out in small groups for flying and evasion evaluations. Most of them pass. Tobias compliments Doyeon on her speed and control, despite using a battered school broom. Next they practice in pairs tossing copies of the Quaffle to each other, then they move on to scoring goals. Tobias circles behind the hoops while Kelsi watches from behind the students. They eliminate anyone who makes less than seven out of ten shots. Doyeon succeeds with eight goals, but Kelsi notes her last one had hit the rim of the hoop and barely tipped through. On a windy day, she would’ve missed completely. She congratulates Doyeon anyway.

While the other groups finish up their tryouts, Doyeon sneaks up to the stands.

“You look pretty comfortable in the air, Kim,” Somi nudges her side. “Can’t wait to wipe the grass with your face when Hufflepuff loses.”

They burst out in laughter and Doyeon feels thankful. Somi’s cockiness translates to “I know you’re gonna make the cut.” Yoojung looks up at her with bright, curious eyes.

“They complimented me, I hope I’m set for the position,” she replies. “I’ve got more than an ice cream cone riding on it this time.” Yoojung silently chuckles into Doyeon’s side, the vibrations calming her nerves.

“You better get back down there. Looks like they’re preparing for the final evaluations,” Sohye says. They all give Doyeon an encouraging high five before she shuffles down to the pitch.

The crowd has dwindled down significantly. Combined with the team members from last year, there are six Chasers, four Beaters, and two Keepers and Seekers each. Kelsi excludes herself to observe the players in action. She divides everyone into two teams to face off in a mock match. Tobias mounts his broom next to Doyeon, wishing her luck. On Kelsi’s signal, everyone kicks off into the air and the balls are released.

Tobias lunges for the Quaffle, but an opposing Chaser reaches it first. Him and his teammates zoom towards the other end of the pitch, Doyeon’s team following close behind. The other Chaser on her team, Alekvius, devises a strategy to get the ball in their possession. Tobias rounds off the opposing team’s path on the right while Alek dives straight down from above. The center Chaser drops the Quaffle out of shock and veers left to avoid Alek. Doyeon soars underneath and catches the Quaffle. Heading straight up for the goals, she fakes a throw to the left hoop and aims for the right while the Keeper is distracted. Kelsi awards the goal to Team A and makes some notes on her clipboard. Tobias and Alek pat Doyeon on the back as they fly into position.

On the whistle, the opposing Keeper throws the Quaffle to her team. A Chaser catches it and takes off down the pitch. His teammate motions that she’s open, so he takes the chance to pass it. Alek shoots up above it with alarming speed, scaring her off. Instead of catching it, he spikes it back down towards Tobias. Doyeon is already halfway back towards the goal hoops when he reaches her. He smoothly drops the ball into her open palm and crosses over her broom with his arm held out to appear like he still has the ball. The other Chasers fall for it and follow him to the stands on the left. Doyeon keeps the ball in front of her and swoops around to the right, hoping to get close enough to the rear of the hoops, but still have the room to shoot it through the front. The Keeper notices her however and shouts out a warning. She backtracks down the pitch, but by coincidence the two competing Seekers dive in front of her chasing after the Snitch. She pulls back on her broom hard, flipping over backwards. The Quaffle tips out of her grasp and an opposing Chaser catches it. By the time she rights herself, Kelsi’s whistle sounds from her team’s hoops. She makes her way over to the other players with a huff.

Four rounds later, Team B is in the lead. Doyeon feels sweat trickling down her neck under the high sun. Kelsi declares that tryouts will end at noon if the Snitch isn’t caught by then. She flies around to make sure it isn’t trapped in the stands while the teams take a break to discuss tactics. Team A agrees that Tobias is straightforward, he hides nothing and competes head-on. Also having been on the team, everyone trying out knows how he plays. His skills aren’t to be trifled with however. Alek seems to specialize in dives, so he takes the offensive approach. Doyeon is fast, agile, and quiet. She’s great at lying low and sneaking up to gain possession. She’s lethal, but doesn’t show it. They clue in the Beaters, who formulate a plan to protect a chosen “target Chaser” without giving away the Quaffle’s position or their team’s patterns. The Seeker chimes in with his search route to keep out of everyone’s way until he sees the Snitch. When everyone is satisfied, Kelsi reinitiates the game.

The round starts off in the middle of the pitch and ends much like the beginning of the final tryouts. Team A scores another goal and the Quaffle is put back into play. Everyone flocks to the goalposts at the other end when Alek regains possession. He, Tobias, and Doyeon keep the ball moving between them in an effort to tire out the other team as they move down the pitch. When they get close to the goalposts, Tobias hands it off to Doyeon and fends off a nearby Chaser. Alek surges forward, faking a throw to the right hoop and the Keeper follows. Doyeon ascends and aims for the center hoop when a Team B Beater swerves into her path by accident. She avoids colliding with him by flying straight up and risks dropping the Quaffle. She reaches for it but grabs the Beater’s bat instead. Opponent or not, everyone has a job to do in the game. She winds up her arm to throw it back to him.

“Behind you!” He shouts.

Doyeon turns around and swings her arm around in defense. Her hand shakes from the force of the bat making contact. The Bludger flies into the far Chaser’s direction. She corkscrews through the air and loses her grip. The Quaffle falls into Alek’s path. He circles around and hastily shoots it into the right goalpost, scoring their team a point.

“Are you alright?” The Beater asks, flying up to her.

“Y-yeah. Thanks. Here,” she says shakily.

She hands the bat back. He’s hesitant to leave, but after a few deep breaths, she assures him she’s fine. He relays his relief that she isn’t injured and goes to meet his team. The new round starts, but Doyeon hasn’t moved from her spot.

Kelsi hovers near her. “Kim, you sure you can still play?”

Doyeon nods her head. She tightens her grip on the handle, but Kelsi’s voice stops her.

“That was one hell of a swing. You’re great as a Chaser, but wow! You should be a Beater. That’s a great arm you’ve got,” she marvels.

For the first time since morning, Doyeon doesn’t see a captain’s judgement in her eyes. She doesn’t hear constructive criticism in her voice. There’s just plain amazement. Something stirs inside her stomach, but it’s not exactly pleasant.

“Doyeon!”

She doesn’t have time to dwell on it when Tobias streaks up the pitch. He tosses the Quaffle to her and tries to lose the Team B Chaser on his tail. Without hesitation, she turns on the spot and creates a torrent of wind around herself, not to move faster but to propel the ball further. The Keeper lunges sideways and misses, the Quaffle passing through the center hoop easily. Just after the Keeper releases the Quaffle, a Seeker shouts from ten feet above the pitch that he’s caught the Snitch. The Beaters take off to retrieve the Bludgers and everyone gathers around Kelsi at the center of the pitch.

“Excellent job, everyone! This would have made a spectacular practice during the season. Unfortunately, not everyone made the cut. But I can see you gave it your all out there, and I couldn’t have asked for a better turnout this year. I’ll post the new team in the common room next week. Please check it and mark down the practice schedule. Let’s clean up and head off to lunch. There should still be some food for the next half-hour.”

Kelsi leads everyone in an applause and walks over to the old musty chest to store the balls inside. The other students walk around the pitch to pick up discarded brooms and water bottles.

Yoojung, Sohye, and Somi are waiting at the base of the stands. Doyeon begins walking towards them, but someone grabs her arm.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

Doyeon follows Kelsi off to the side to straighten up the brooms leaning against the wall.

“I know you tried out for Chaser today. You were great during all stages of the tryouts. Your team had a pretty even distribution of goals too. That shows great teamwork and that you recognize each other’s strengths.”

Doyeon feels the tension in the air. “But…?”

“But,” Kelsi sighs, “I stand by what I said. I really think you should be a Beater instead. Now, ‘what’s one accidental hit compared to a whole morning’s worth of scoring goals?’ you ask. I don’t mean to sound pompous or anything, but I’m Captain for a reason. I see potential. With one hit, I can see you have more strength and control in your arm than even Kovic, and he’s been on the team for five years.”

Doyeon doesn’t respond.

“Let me be clear. The whole team from last year understands that a great player can come from anywhere. We’re willing to give up our place for someone who can do better than us, that includes me. If I find someone who can lead the team better than I, the Captain position is theirs. If they can be a better Chaser, they can have both positions and I won’t have any regrets. I can take out Kovic and put you in as Beater for this year’s line-up. You’ll make the Quidditch team. On the other hand, we don’t really need you as Chaser.”

“Oh my Hippogriff’s butt feathers, she’s talking to the Captain,” Sohye squeaks.

Somi gasps. “You think she made it? What if it’s all hush-hush and Doyeon’s kicking out a veteran player?” She speculates.

Standing between the two and unable to contain her excitement, Yoojung forcefully shakes their arms by the wrists when she sees the Captain speaking animatedly. They can’t gauge Doyeon’s reaction since her back is turned. The Captain walks off the pitch. Doyeon turns around and they meet her halfway. Yoojung immediately latches on to Doyeon’s arm and furrows her eyebrows impatiently.

“Pretty good,” Doyeon says with an exhausted smile. “I’ll find out if I made it next week. Was it boring watching me?” Yoojung shakes her head.

“That was awesome!” Somi and Sohye exclaim in unison.

Sohye beats Somi to it, smugly demanding treacle fudge for speaking at the same time. Somi grunts her consent and turns to Doyeon.

“So, I’ll be seeing you on the pitch this season.”

“But I don’t know if—”

“That wasn’t a question,” Somi says firmly, her eyes blazing with confidence. Doyeon squeezes out a laugh, too tired to argue her uncertainty.

“What did the Captain say? She didn’t talk to anyone else privately,” Sohye says, edging closer as if gossiping.

_“I…” Doyeon begins. Is it really her place to refuse the Captain’s offer?_

_“Be honest with me, I won’t force you to do anything. However, my priority is the team. I’m gathering the best seven people to represent Hufflepuff this year, and I need to know if you’ll be one of them.” Kelsi’s voice is authoritative, but not condescending._

_Doyeon goes with her gut. “I want to be a Chaser. That’s what I signed up for, that’s what I want to do as part of the team.” She feels relieved, but far weaker after hearing those words leave her mouth._

_Kelsi nods, respecting her decision, and congratulates her on tryouts._

Her friends look at her expectantly.

“She said I flew well and I have a great arm,” Doyeon answers.

Somi doesn’t bother holding back an obnoxious whoop and Sohye pinches Doyeon’s biceps teasingly.

“Doyeon! You coming to lunch?” Tobias and Alek are waiting by the entrance to the stadium.

Doyeon, Sohye, and Yoojung wish Somi luck during her tryouts. They promise to stop by to show their support. Somi leaves to pick up her broom and starts on some warm-up laps. Doyeon introduces her friends to her Quidditch acquaintances and they all head to the castle to eat.

“We need to drag Yoojung to the library some time. That lesson was impossible,” Doyeon complains, stuffing a round button into her bag for practice later.

“At least yours worked. Mine shot _away_ from me,” Sohye whines.

“Maybe we should use a bit more finesse in class.” Doyeon rubs the _two_ red, circular imprints on her forehead. “Ugh, what’s our homework again? My memory is failing.”

“An eleven-inch essay on the Summoning Charm, contrasting the unnecessary precision in wand movement required for its execution and the degree of specificity of the target in mind,” Sohye recites as they descend the stairs to the basement.

Doyeon taps her wand on the barrel lid, exposing a door. They crawl through the entrance and into the common room. Sohye nods her head towards a small group of students huddled around the message board. Doyeon squeezes her way to the front and reads the Quidditch Team notice.

_Kelsivalla Lockthorn, seventh-year - Captain, Chaser_

_Tobias Ruffario, sixth-year - Chaser_

_Alekvius Surge, fifth-year - Chaser_

_Doyeon Kim, fourth-year - Reserve Chaser_

Only the Beaters don’t have a reserve member. Doyeon knows Kelsi did it on purpose, but it’s nothing malicious. She also knows life doesn’t go exactly as you plan it. It’s still disappointing though. Being honest with herself, she’s not a huge Quidditch fan. The desire to play was never very strong, though tryouts were a fun deviation from routine. But being on the team gives you a title. People recognize you. They praise you when you win, they comfort you when you lose, they support you year-round and they don’t even know you, not really.

Doyeon isn’t looking for popularity. She couldn't care less about people fawning over the ground she walks, about girls being envious, about guys staring at her with starstruck eyes. But something inherently follows attention. That is something Doyeon desperately wants. She can’t put her finger on it, she just goes with her gut.

Her instinct told her to sign up for tryouts. Her instinct told her to grab that bat mid-air and swing at the Bludger before it crushed her nose. Her instinct told her to decline Kelsi’s offer and stick to being a Chaser, a mediocre one compared to the other finalists. At least, that’s what she thought.

Really, how important was it to define herself as some teenage magical athlete? The voice inside her head is already so faint. When she chooses to listen to it, someone stamps it out. Is she willing to stick to what the voice said or ignore it in favor of what she wants? She doesn’t even know what that is. Doyeon reverts to a very familiar thought—nothing seems worth it. Do nothing, you stay on the sidelines. Try, you get pushed back there.

Frustrated, she rubs the spot where the buttons embedded themselves. It just makes her head hurt more. She wriggles back out of the crowd and leads the way to the girls’ dormitories. Sohye congratulates her with a confused tone, not sure if it’s rude or not. Doyeon doesn’t mind, because she’s just as confused about whether to be happy or not.

~|~|~|~

Doyeon started out with base-level knowledge like most of her year. As they progressed, Yoojung tended to excel in Herbology and Charms, subjects that were straightforward. Doyeon’s specialities were in Potions and Transfiguration, classes that took a bit of teasing apart to understand. She liked being particularly adept at something. She felt useful. But now, she wonders if it’s more trouble than it’s worth.

Doyeon and Yoojung have Potions on Friday afternoons. Naturally, they pair up at a table. This lesson focuses on the Wit-Sharpening Potion. After a short introduction, the class moves around to set up their workstations and collect materials from the store cupboards. The two girls begin their prep work in silent concentration.

Halfway through the period, Doyeon meticulously stirs her potion in a counter-clockwise motion. Every third one, she drags the ladle across the diameter of the cauldron. She then prods at the fire underneath until it turns blue. A balled up piece of parchment lands among her ingredients. She looks around and sees Yoojung waving her over frantically. Leaving her potion to simmer, Doyeon shuffles over to the other of the table. Before she can ask what’s wrong, Professor Slughorn sidles up to them.

“Hmm, your potion should be a bright red by now, Miss Choi,” he says, scooping up a ladleful and letting it pour back into the cauldron. On contact, the liquid bubbles violently. “Oh my, extremely volatile!” He gestures for the two to step back until the vapor clears. 

He opens his mouth to give some advice, but shouting from the other side of the room distracts him. Sohye’s cauldron has frozen over and Somi’s solution is to magically thaw it.

“Now, now! There’s no need to panic. Miss Jeon, please don’t—”

Somi aims poorly when her wand slips from her hand and she ends up igniting the leftover ingredients littering their workspace. Professor Slughorn excuses himself before rushing over to help.

Yoojung looks up at Doyeon with a helpless expression.

“Come on,” she laughs. “Let’s see what we can do.”

She cracks her knuckles and walks over to the ingredients lined up neatly on the table. Yoojung follows, paying close attention.

“First, let’s lower the heat.”

Doyeon prods at the fire and it turns from blue to red. The brown contents of the cauldron begin fading to a light purple.

“The armadillo bile was probably burning at the bottom. Hopefully the liquid stays a liquid now.”

Yoojung cautiously lifts up the ladle, the solution no longer hissing and steaming when it breaks the surface. She stirs it around to dissolve all of the bile settled at the bottom.

“Did you add the scarab beetles yet?” Yoojung nods.

“Your potion looks really thin and watery. Are you sure you ground them enough? It has to be a fine powder to dissolve properly.”

Yoojung’s eyes widen and travel to the cutting board.

“You chopped them,” Doyeon concludes and Yoojung nods again.

Doyeon thinks for a moment before reaching over to her spare materials for a round opaque bottle.

“Let’s add some Flobberworm mucus to thicken it. Your potion won’t be as strong, but it’ll do what it’s supposed to.”

She tips the contents into the cauldron while Yoojung stirs the solution twice, turning it orange.

“Wait a couple minutes and see if it turns red. If it doesn’t, try grinding up another beetle and adding a pinch,” Doyeon says, glancing to the side to check if Yoojung understood.

The shorter girl hugs her by the waist and looks up thankfully. Doyeon chuckles and ruffles Yoojung’s hair. As she walks back to check on her solution, she notices a Gryffindor boy staring at her from two tables away. She raises her eyebrow questioningly. He turns back to his textbook, unconcerned that he had been caught.

When Professor Slughorn calls for the last five minutes, Doyeon and Yoojung bottle up a sample of their potions. The liquid in Doyeon’s cauldron is thick and smooth, and has an almost reflective sheen to it. Yoojung’s is a bit duller, but it retains the same shade of glowing sunset orange. They label the phials and place them on the teacher’s desk to be graded. As they walk back to clean up their workstations, someone taps Doyeon on the shoulder.

“Hey, the name’s Strider. Nick Strider.”

Doyeon hears the theme song of a certain national spy playing from the depths of her memories.

“Doyeon,” she says, shaking his giant hand hesitantly.

“I couldn’t help but overhear you fixing her potion,” the boy says, like he’s reading from a script. He points at Yoojung, who tries to act oblivious.

“Uh, yeah,” Doyeon says awkwardly. He doesn’t respond. “What about it?” She prompts.

“You’ve got skill,” he states and doesn’t elaborate.

“Thanks…”

Doyeon’s eyes flicker to the flask in his hand, a goopy tar-like substance bubbling inside. She wants to tell him it’s probably not the best idea to stopper it.

“Did you need something?” She asks slowly, trying to be polite.

“Uh, well, the O.W.L.s are coming up and I could use some help in Potions.”

He scratches his head, waving his flask in the air unnecessarily. The dark liquid sloshes around and a large bubble forms inside. Doyeon suppresses the urge to reply “obviously.”

“O.W.L.s are at the end of term… of Fifth Year…” She trails off. He doesn’t seem to have understood and just stares back at her. “It’s October. And we’re fourth-years,” she clarifies. Realization dawns across his face and Doyeon feels a bit relieved at this.

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to be extra prepared,” he says, trying to save face. “And getting help from a Ravenclaw can only be a good thing! I’ll even pay you.” He yanks out five Galleons from his pocket and some random Sickles clatter on the floor.

Doyeon pauses at his words. “You know this is a double period with Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, right?”

“Oh,” he says dumbly. “But you’re pretty smart in this class. Shouldn’t you be in Ravenclaw?”

“I— That— They aren’t the only ones—” Doyeon struggles to get any words out.

People put way too much stock in stereotypes. She sighs heavily, trying to collect her thoughts. Before she can speak, Yoojung steps over and points at Doyeon’s neck. The boy finally sees the yellow striped tie.

His expectant grin drops immediately. “Huh…” He drawls.

“Never mind then,” he shrugs casually.

He turns around and puts his still-bubbling tar solution on Professor Slughorn’s desk.

Confused at his sudden aloofness, Doyeon begins clearing away her materials. She knocks over a few packets of dried herbs and they slide under the table in front. Yoojung moves to help, but Doyeon waves her off since there’s a spill on her side of the table that needs to be cleaned. Doyeon skirts around to the other side and crawls onto the floor. She reaches for the far packet when Nick’s shoes stop a few feet in front of her.

“Hey, want to check out Zonko’s this weekend? I heard they have a new product as a Halloween special, Charmed Whisper Cards. It’d be so funny to prank some Slytherin first-years, them being in the dungeons and all,” says Nick.

“Zonko’s? I thought you wouldn’t have any more allowance. Weren’t you going to pay that girl to help you _not_ get T’s on everything?” His friend laughs.

“Shut up,” Nick replies, half embarrassed. “Besides, if—”

Doyeon nearly bangs her head on the underside of the table when she hears a cauldron clang against stone, something shattering on the floor, and Somi apologizing profusely.

“—not worth it,” she catches the end of the conversation.

A strange taste fills Doyeon’s mouth. Her lips curve downward at the realization. Bitterness, followed by something acidic that makes her want to gag. Titles, labels, categories. They aren’t everything. But what does that matter when she’s the only one who thinks so? She’s bitter that someone else gets to define her. And disgusted that she wants to demand to tutor that narrow-minded boy, that she feels the need to validate herself to someone like him.

Yoojung lightly kicks her rear, telling her to get moving. She clears her mind, collects the packets of dried herbs, and crawls out from under the table.

~|~|~|~

Transfiguration is crowded. Professor McGonagall was adamant about teaching every level of the course on top of her duties as Headmistress. So students from all four houses are crammed into one class. Today they are turning hedgehogs into pincushions. Soon the room fills with murmurings of incantations.

Doyeon has a short staring contest with the small hedgehog sitting on her desk. It scrunches up its nose in curiosity. Doyeon does the same in concentration. When she raises her wand, the hedgehog rolls backward and grasps its feet, its spines protruding menacingly.

The figure in the book about the wand movement is something like a lowercase alpha symbol. She positions her wand in the air and makes a diagonal slash down to the left. Her arm loops around up and to the right, finishing with a downward jab in the direction of the animal. The body morphs into a soft cushion with just two pins sticking out. The hedgehog is only partially transfigured, the edges of the pincushion still lined with spines and two feet dangling in the air. She repeats the wand movement and says the reverse incantation to start from square one.

Doyeon sighs and looks around the room. Everyone else is struggling to transfigure their animals. They fail to change something they are given into something they want. But they try. They try to get rid of the hedgehog-ness and make the professor see only the portion of pincushion, the praiseworthy part. They boast to their friends about how different it looks. Their friends snicker at how much of it looks the same as before. Doyeon thinks it’s a bit cruel the way they force a subject’s constitution to change. If one only sees the pincushion, does the hedgehog cease to exist? Is there some remnant of the hedgehog deep within the pincushion? Is it only possible to see the hedgehog again when it’s convenient for those on the outside, those beside itself, those with power? 

She clears her throat and refocuses. Since when did she have philosophical musings about her classwork?

Doyeon observes the other students. The girl in front of her is frantically muttering the incantation while stiffly waving her wand in the air. She curses when nothing happens. Looking up, she catches Professor McGonagall’s eyes and the teacher walks over to assist. This time, the spell seems to have knocked the hedgehog unconscious, still looking like itself.

“Focus is key, as you well know. You cannot just wish for your subject to go from living to inanimate. This kind of magic requires specificity. You must consider the subject in its entirety. Especially for living things, what more humans. While greatly simplified, one does not lose their minds nor emotions while transfigured. Your skill will determine how well your preserve that inner state. Fail to do so, and there may be dire consequences,” says the professor.

The girl stares at her lap, ashamed of herself. The professor says she needs to practice more before leaving to help other students. The girl squirms in her seat, visibly uncomfortable at hearing those foreign words.

Doyeon shifts her gaze to the direction of agitated squeaking. Nick from Potions sits diagonally to the right of the girl. Doyeon sees him poking the underside of his hedgehog, irritation evident on its tiny face. It’s a temperamental one. It launches forward and chips off a piece of his wand tip with its teeth. Nick jabs at his hedgehog and clicks his tongue before turning around in his seat.

“Heather, you’re in Ravenclaw, right? You think maybe—”

“Shut it. For the last time, I’m not wasting a second on you. Can’t you see my hedgehog is still a hedgehog? Are you trying to rub salt in my wounds? Obviously I can’t help you if I can’t even get through this myself, you idiot. How could you be so insensitive? Took one too many Bludgers to the head? Knocked out your reasoning? Or were you always like that?” She snarls.

Doyeon’s eyes widen at the explosive reply. _Did the girl even breath? _Heather decidedly ignores his presence from then on and attempts to transfigure her hedgehog again. Nick screws up his face trying to decipher the flurry of words that spewed out of her mouth. Giving up, he faces forward and begins prodding at his poor hedgehog again.

Realizing she eavesdropped, Doyeon turns her head to the left. Down at the other end of her row, she sees Sohye biting her lip in frustration. With every attempt, she changes which syllables of the incantation she emphasizes. Doyeon also wants to tell her she’s only doing half of the wand movement, but she can’t shout over the noise without distracting everyone else. Looking past her, she sees Somi struggling to aim her spell properly. Her wand arm wavers in the air while her free hand tries to capture the hedgehog running around her desk.

Immediately to her left, Doyeon looks at Yoojung making consistent, strong wand motions. Like hers, Yoojung’s hedgehog only transfigures halfway. The girl doesn’t give up. She changes it back to its initial form and attempts the spell again. This is one of the rare times when Doyeon sees her lips moving subtly. Yoojung whispers the incantation since she can’t focus enough to do it nonverbally.

As she watches, Doyeon notices a slight disturbance in the air. It happens just as Yoojung moves her arm straight down to point at the hedgehog. It almost looks like the haze of excessive heat rising from pavement during the summer. It flows out of the wand tip and floats towards the hedgehog’s belly—towards the center of the object where one has the best aim.

_It’s too concentrated_, she thinks. _Entirety. Consider the subject in its entirety._

Despite Transfiguration being a more exact and scientific branch of magic, Doyeon finds a little editing here and there makes her spell casting much more efficient and accurate. She faces her hedgehog, still curled into a ball, spines upright in defense. She slashes the air purposefully and recites the incantation. Instead of cutting off her movement at the end, she adds a small stroke rounding off to the left. She carefully observes the transparent haze. Most of it is directed at the center of the hedgehog’s body, but the tail of it follows her wand, set on a trajectory that curls around the animal. The underbelly morphs into a soft cushion, the spines directly positioned on the backside turning into pins. Then the feet and hands of the hedgehog transform into the corners of the pincushion. _There’s no hedgehog-ness to be seen_, she thinks dully.

“Excellent work as always, Miss Kim,” says Professor McGonagall over Yoojung’s desk. Doyeon remembers that she should be proud of this. She is not a hedgehog. “Five points to Hufflepuff.”

The professor looks down at Yoojung’s partial transfiguration attempt. She fails to turn it back into a full animal under the teacher’s hawklike gaze.

“Miss Choi, I have noticed your ability to perform the past few transfigurations has been inconsistent. I acknowledge your effort, but the coursework will only increase in complexity and difficulty. I will assign a fourteen-inch essay to those who fail to complete today’s lesson,” she warns, but there is concern in her voice.

Yoojung nods in understanding.

“Well then, let’s see your progress.”

Yoojung takes a deep breath and positions her wand arm upright. Mid-incantation, a shriek echoes from the other side of the room. Sohye springs up into the aisle and looks down at her chair.

“Ugh, seriously?! This isn’t the time for pranks!” She growls.

Somi reaches over and scoops up the hedgehog, clasping it tightly with both hands.

“I swear I didn’t do it on purpose! My hedgehog keeps trying to escape!” She yells, feeling offended.

“Then barricade it on your desk!” Sohye barks back.

“Miss Jeon and Miss Kim!” Professor McGonagall says sternly.

Everyone turns to the left to watch, while some students “ooh” obnoxiously. Somi and Sohye are quick to defend themselves until the professor shushes and scolds them in front of the class.

In all of the commotion, Doyeon mutters under her breath and strains to minimize her arm movement, eyes fixed on Yoojung’s hedgehog. Just as she finishes off the last air stroke, Professor McGonagall turns around to address Yoojung. She catches the last few spines lengthening into pins.

She clears her throat calmly, but is visibly agitated. “Well done, Miss Choi. I am pleased to see your effort has come to fruition. Take five points for Gryffindor. Keep up the good work.”

Turning sharply on her heels, she says, “And you two!” Somi and Sohye stop their hushed bickering and look up with a hint of fear in their eyes. “Detention with me. Friday evening, eight o’clock.”

“Yes, Professor,” they say through gritted teeth.

When Professor McGonagall walks to the front of the class, they resume making distorted faces at each other. Doyeon leans over to make a snide remark about their friends, but Yoojung isn’t paying attention to her. Following her gaze, Doyeon sees the girl sitting in front of her staring between the two of them. Then she turns to glare at Doyeon.

“I’m sorry?” Doyeon tries, not in the mood to fight with a stranger.

Heather just huffs and crosses her arms.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but could you tell me what I—”

She cuts Doyeon off, speaking rapidly with a spiteful tone.

“Doyeon Kim, the Transfiguration prodigy. Book-smart, performance-pruned, and good at everything in between. Not a single word of criticism from professors. Oh, _no_. They _praise_ the ‘dear Muggle-born with potential.’ You probably weren’t even aware of all the genius innovations wizards and witches brainstormed in their youth when you set foot within these walls. Who knew a nobody like you would rise in the ranks of wizarding academics? You hurt my pride quite a bit, you know. I used to be at the top of this class, and then you come along—“

“Hey, I’m just trying to—” Doyeon interjects.

“—and steal my spotlight. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be a seventh-generation Ravenclaw and not even make it to O.W.L.s with top marks to show for it? What more, if I can’t even recover my initial standing by the time N.E.W.T.s are administered? I’d be the laughing stock of my family! My father and his father, and his father, and _his_ father spent their lives researching the art of Transfiguration and I plan to follow the same path. They _expect_ things from me. I didn’t work my arse off—”

“Look, I’m sorry you feel that way, but—” Doyeon tries again.

“—to be pushed aside by the likes of you. What kind of a model student are you anyway? Your friends over there are blundering idiots who like to be a thorn in everyone’s side, _all the time_. The horror of being associated with people like them, I can’t imagine it. Yet you seem to be doing just fine. While I’m over here tearing through books day and night just to keep up with you, you spend your days playing babysitter for them and bodyguard for a mute.” Heather glares at Yoojung and clicks her tongue.

“Hey!” Doyeon lurches forward in her seat. “Watch it! That’s none of your business—”

“But it turns out Little Miss Perfect has some dirty tricks up her sleeve, too,” the girl snaps, ignoring Doyeon. “I saw what you did and don’t you dare deny it. Like everyone else, your _bestie_ doesn’t have the skill to transfigure a hedgehog. But of course you don’t share some helpful tips with the rest of us _common folk_. No, you have to be a little cheat and do it for her! How do you not mind her earning house points for something you did? What happened to valuing ‘hard work’ and ‘justice,’ or whatever the bloody old hat says about Hufflepuffs? If you’re going to be so dishonorable to get your way and help your buddy, you should just be a damn Slytherin. I’d at least feel better about myself if it was obvious and predictable that you’d act in such a manner. Tch, honestly. People these days…” Heather rolls her eyes dramatically.

Doyeon is burning with rage. Her teeth are clenched so hard, she feels a headache spreading from her temple. Her right hand is balled into a fist. The nails of her left hand dig deep into the skin of her forearm to restrain herself from lashing out. Violence inside a classroom, especially in the presence of a teacher, isn’t taken very lightly.

Heather just scoffs at Doyeon’s silence and packs up her books to leave the classroom. Doyeon abruptly stands up, the legs of her chair scraping against the floor. She moves to latch onto the girl’s shoulder and yank her back to yell at her face, but someone holds her still.

Yoojung looks up at her with a blank expression and shakes her head once. Doyeon is still boiling inside. She wants to protest. She wants to let that girl know, very clearly, that she can’t just walk away after insulting Doyeon and her friends so easily.

Yoojung instead squeezes her hand and leads her towards Somi and Sohye’s desks. The two have reconciled seeing as they’ll be suffering together come Friday night. The two talk animatedly about the upcoming Hogsmeade trip, promising to treat the group to a round of Butterbeers. After serving a detention with McGonagall, they’ll need something to lift their spirits. They figured a warm beverage would cheer them up from the biting cold outside too.

Still thoroughly livid, Doyeon turns to argue her burning desire to give that girl a piece of her mind. But her anger is doused when she sees Yoojung’s eyes glistening at the corners. The shorter girl closes her eyes, trying to drain the tears away. Doyeon’s mind empties and she wraps her arms around Yoojung’s neck from behind.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispers. “What she said was nonsense.”

Doyeon feels the need to convince herself, to prove she’s not lying to Yoojung. _I’m not…_

_Not what? Not what she thinks? A prodigy? A cheating prodigy? A cheating prodigy who should be in Slytherin? No, it could be seen as being dependable, or— _Her thoughts are rapidly piling up, burying and consuming each other. She doesn’t know whether she should feel disgusted that she just tricked a teacher, or proud that it actually worked.

Yoojung peeks up at Doyeon with a knowing expression. She brings her hands up and covers Doyeon’s ears. _Don’t listen._ The already muffled voices of lingering students get cut off, but it’s louder than ever inside her head.

~|~|~|~

One warm afternoon in March, Doyeon rushes out of Defense Against the Dark Arts, crumpling her notes into a heap and shoving them in her bag. She screeches to a halt by a window on a turret staircase. The Herbology class has just let out as well. Students wipe their dirty hands on their robes as they exit the greenhouses, some looking thoroughly ruffled. Her class heads down the stairs to the dormitories for a break before dinner. She makes a hard right in the Entrance Hall and squeezes past the incoming crowd of students. Once outside the oak doors, she walks down the path and across the grounds. She approaches her Head of House harvesting Boom Berries in the gardens.

"Hello Professor Sprout," Doyeon greets. 

"Oh, hello dear," the professor says genially. "Yoojung is—" 

"Inside, as always," they say in unison, their laughs echoing. 

"I'll be there in a moment, just going to get the rest of these. Why don't you help her in the meantime?" She adjusts her patched hat to shade her face from the harsh sunlight. 

Doyeon nods and heads inside the nearest greenhouse. Yoojung looks up and beams at her best friend. Pushing a bottle into Doyeon's hands, she gestures towards the potted Mandrakes. Doyeon sprays the plants in a great sweeping motion. The stems shake a bit when the Mandrakes squeal, but they soon die down and grow still. Yoojung begins plucking the leaves without retaliation from the herbaceous babies. She continues down the rows with Doyeon spraying along the way. When they collect enough to fill a small sack, Professor Sprout walks into the greenhouse with two baskets. 

"Could one of you please bring these to Madam Pomfrey? She requested them for some students injured in a duel. Honestly, where do they learn such dangerous curses?” 

Yoojung moves forward without hesitation, holding her arms out.

"Thank you, dear," the professor smiles.

She heads to another section of the greenhouse with the small sack they filled, muttering about teenage recklessness with motherly concern. 

"Come back soon. If we finish early, we can have some free time before dinner,” Doyeon says.

Yoojung nods enthusiastically and leaves for the castle. Doyeon follows the professor to the back. They spread the Mandrake leaves evenly under the unfiltered ceiling windows. Professor Sprout takes a tin can of powder and sprinkles a bit everywhere. Doyeon takes some in her palm to help with the other two tables.

“This looks like the horn or spine powder I use in Potions,” Doyeon says, inspecting it.

“Oh, it’s something much more magical,” the professor whispers conspiratorially. Doyeon looks up expectantly.

“Fresh coffee grounds,” she giggles, patting Doyeon lightly on the shoulder. “Really though, the aromatics help keep the magical properties potent. Drying out the leaves preserves them, but their power diminishes greatly," the professor explains.

Doyeon laughs and makes a mental note to get some in Hogsmeade because it smells wonderful while overpowering the odor of dragon dung fertilizer. That, and a certain Choi has spontaneous cravings for good coffee.

Half an hour passes as Doyeon trims the yellow malnourished vines off some hanging potted plants. Professor Sprout walks back into the greenhouse to check on her progress.

“It’s almost dinner, you two. How about we call it a day?” The professor looks around confused. “Yoojung isn’t back yet?”

Doyeon shakes her head. Looking at her watch, she realizes how long the shorter girl had been gone. Professor Sprout mirrors her worried expression.

“Perhaps Madam Pomfrey held her back to help juice the berries. Go look for her, I’ll clean up here,” she suggests.

Doyeon thanks her, slinging her bag over her shoulder and picking up Yoojung’s on the way out. At the foot of the castle’s stone steps, Doyeon sees long shadows on the ground off to the right. One of them suddenly shrinks back, the other shadow towering over it. She sees a thin line emerging from the second shadow’s torso. _A wand_. Dropping the bags, she runs around the corner of the castle, wand drawn from her sleeve.

Her eyes immediately flicker to the figure crouching against the wall. Yoojung is shaking her head furiously, her hands held up in defense and her wand ten feet away on the grass. They catch each other’s eye before Doyeon turns away to look at the other person. A tall, handsome boy stares back at her with wide eyes, wand pointed at Yoojung.

“What’s going on here?” Doyeon demands.

She points her own wand at the boy’s throat without hesitation, sidestepping until she’s between him and Yoojung. She ignores the tugging on the back of her robes. She expects the boy to shout at her, to tell her off and swear at her for butting in where she isn’t wanted. But when he opens his mouth, she’s surprised to hear a soft whimper.

“P-please, don’t-t interfere.”

He looks poised and pompous, but his eyes are fearful. Doyeon can see his muscles straining to keep his wand arm from shaking.

“Why are you attacking an innocent student?” she asks calmly, but still alert. “She hasn’t done anything to you, and you don’t exactly look like you’re willing to hurt her.”

“Of course I don’t _want_ to!” Surprised at the volume of his voice, he jerks his head around to check behind him. “I d-don’t _want_ to be m-mean. I don’t _w-want_ to play up s-superiority. B-but I don’t want t-to be an outcast-t.”

“And how is that any of her business?” Doyeon asks with an edge to her tone.

“Y-you don’t und-d-derstand-d,” he stutters. “If-f I don’t d-do this-s, they’ll g-get to m-me!”

“What are you going on about?”

Doyeon is slightly worried for the boy now. He sounds like he’ll pass out any second from anxiety. From afar though, his appearance exudes confidence. She wonders just what kind of trouble he’s in to put on such an act.

“Let’s just calm down. We can talk—” Gruff voices interrupt her and she sees the boy stiffen.

“I t-told you…” he whispers through clenched teeth.

Before Doyeon can question him, two burly Slytherin sixth-years stroll across the grass, each smacking the boy’s shoulders in fake camaraderie.

“What do we have here? Catch something for us, Xerxes? About time, minions have quotas to fill,” the one on the right sneers, his voice deep and condescending.

The one on the left smacks the back of his friend’s head. “They were his first. Come on kid, what’s takin’ ya so long to deal wit’ ‘em? Get on wit’ it,” he says with a nasally tone. The corner of his mouth pulls back to reveal a shining gold canine filed with precision.

Xerxes doesn’t move. His housemates grow impatient and frown at each other.

“What, too wimpy to jinx ‘em?”

“Need a demonstration?” One of them pulls out their wand and points it at him.

“I like to play with my prey.”

Xerxes doesn’t stutter. His voice is as stoic as his expression. Wasn’t this the kid pleading for her understanding just a minute ago? Doyeon stares at him appalled, but his eyes are focused on a point past her ear.

The other boys’ faces split into giant grins. “That’s a good boy, the obedient get rewarded,” they taunt. They step back, watching the three hungrily.

For a split second, Xerxes meets her gaze.Doyeon looks back at the boy with disbelief.

She shakes her head slowly. _Don’t—_

_I’m sorry_.

“Stupefy!” He shouts clearly and a solid jet of red sparks flares from the tip of his wand.

They’re standing so close to each other, there’s no time to cast a defensive barrier. Doyeon’s legs start to give out when Yoojung just glimpses two other jets of red and blue light coming from behind Xerxes. The force of someone’s Knockback Jinx sends Doyeon flying off her feet. She slams into Yoojung, crushing her against the castle brick wall. Yoojung struggles under the weight of Doyeon’s limp body. When she’s almost free, a large figure looms over them.

“Tha’s what ya get, noble Gryffindor wannabe,” the sixth-year spits. Smirking up at Yoojung, he continues to address Doyeon. “If Pipsqueak here had half as much brainless bravery as ya, maybe you’d be sittin’ pretty at dinner ‘stead of lyin’ here. How did the ratty ol’ hat screw up wit’ ya two?” He laughs.

He pats Doyeon’s cheek mockingly. Legs still stuck under the taller girl, Yoojung leans forward and slaps his hand away. He angrily shoves her back into the wall twice as hard, an unnatural thud resonating from her head. He glares at her, flashing his golden canine, then stomps off and disappears around the corner.

“Hey Runt, good luck dragging her up to the hospital wing!” The other sixth-year cackles obnoxiously.

He clamps a large hand onto Xerxes’ shoulder and drags him away. When she pivots her head in their direction, she sees two people blur into one giant mass heading towards the front doors.

“What’s with your face? Don’t tell me you feel sorry for them,” she faintly hears someone snort in disgust.

Something lands on Doyeon’s unconscious body. Yoojung lifts her arm with difficulty to swat it away, but warm, soft feathers ghost over her skin. Squinting, she sees a small golden plate reflecting the fading sunlight. She slumps against the brick wall and her vision goes black.


	3. E) None of the above

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More extreme and messier than “All of the above” because you thought you had it, then you question everything. You’re at that point where you “can’t even,” so you just don’t. You settle for nothing. But of course, life doesn’t want to give you that either.

Yoojung wakes up to a high, white stoned ceiling and the smell of medicinal herbs. As her vision clears, she turns her head to find Doyeon sleeping on the bed next to hers. Leaping out of her own bed to check on the girl, her head starts spinning and her knees buckle. Two pairs of arms reach out to catch her before she face-plants on the ground.

“Hold your Thestrals, she’s fine,” says a familiar voice.

The two people hoist her back up onto the bed. They keep their hands up in case she tips over the edge. When her head stops throbbing, she looks up at her company. Sohye is sitting next to her on the bed, soothingly rubbing circles on her back. Somi is standing in front of them with Jinyoung on her shoulder hooting softly.

“For the sake of Dumbledore’s pantaloons! We can’t leave you two kids alone for five seconds without you getting blasted into a wall,” Somi sighs dramatically, hands on her hips.

Sohye clicks her tongue disapprovingly and glares at her.

“Kidding! Come on, this place could use some laughter…”

Sohye ignores her and turns to Yoojung. “She _means_ we’re really glad you’re awake and we were worried sick about you two. Halfway through dinner, Jinyoung came flying into the Great Hall and started pecking Somi until she followed him outside.”

The taller girl not-so-subtly twitches her neck. Yoojung can see small holes in her robes at her shoulder and red spots along her ear. She looks up at Somi with wide eyes, but her friend just waves away the silent apology with a smile.

“Madam Pomfrey mended your skull when you were passed out. How are you feeling?” Sohye asks, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Yoojung nods her head to indicate she’s fine, but it just makes her dizzy again. Somi moves to keep her from falling forward while Jinyoung flies off and grabs the back of Yoojung’s collar with his talons. Sohye helps set her back into a lying position before calling for assistance.

“Miss Choi, your skull was fractured pretty badly, but nothing I can’t patch up,” the matron says, scuttling over at the commotion. “Best to keep still and rest up for the night. Now, drink this.” Yoojung downs a blue, bitter potion with a grimace.

“And here the fruits of your labor, quite literally, though also unfortunate…” Madam Pomfrey takes a bottle of purple liquid from the nightstand and pours out a cup. Yoojung obediently drinks the Boom Berry juice she squeezed hours ago.

“Is Doyeon going to be okay?” Somi asks for them all.

“Well, she’s falling in and out of unconsciousness now. Two Stunning spells from students won’t cause damage, but they were surprisingly strong. Must have been good duelists you two got into a scuffle with. I tried to perform the counter-spell, but it didn’t do much. The effects of spells vary a bit depending on where you get hit. She seems to have gotten the brunt of it at her head and chest, the most vital areas. But there’s no reason to fret,” the matron says in response to their worried expressions. “In a few days, she’ll be up and about.”

After assuring them of Doyeon’s safety, she tells Somi and Sohye to get back to their dormitories before they get into trouble and for Yoojung to rest. The two girls say their goodbyes and promise to come back when the sun has risen.

Come morning, Madam Pomfrey gives Yoojung one last dose of a potion and Boom Berry juice with breakfast before discharging her. Yoojung wants to stay with Doyeon, but the matron urges her to go to class.

For the next three days, she, Somi, and Sohye visit the hospital wing during every meal. Doyeon doesn’t seem to have moved an inch. Somi pokes her cheek and comments that the girl doesn’t even drool as per usual. Sohye drags her back by the collar and forces her to sit down. They figure it would be awfully rude to start bickering there, but Yoojung half-hopes they will so the noise would wake Doyeon up. As much as Doyeon tried to tame them, Yoojung knew she always got a kick out of their shenanigans. At the five-minute warning, the three stand up and wish the unconscious girl a good night.

Friday during lunch, three girls head into the hospital wing with some pies and sweets tucked into a pouch. That morning, they found Doyeon lying on her stomach. Thrilled to see she had turned over in her sleep and was no longer completely unconscious, they thought she would be awake by lunch and brought some of her favorites to celebrate. Upon entering however, they see Madam Pomfrey replacing the sheets of an empty bed.

“Is Doyeon awake? Did she go to the bathroom?” They ask.

“Oh, hello dears. She’s awake, and perfectly healthy. She’s able to attend her classes now, but if she’s not feeling well at any time, I recommended she stay in her dormitory. I’ve notified Professor Sprout already,” she replies.

They thank her and exit the room. They hear students slowly filing into the corridors, signaling the end of lunch. Yoojung frowns up at her friends.

“Cheer up, we should be happy she’s walking around. We’ll find her later. I have a break now, so I’ll drop this off in our room. You two go to class,” says Sohye.

She takes the pouch of food from Yoojung and walks down towards the kitchens. Somi turns the shorter girl around and ushers her up the moving staircases.

~|~|~|~

Doyeon stirs awake from the sunlight glaring in from the window. Madam Pomfrey checks her over and gives her three potions to stabilize her muscles. The matron tells her she’s free to go, but to rest or come back to the hospital wing if she feels any aftereffects.

The corridors are quiet since lessons are still going on. She doesn’t feel like going to class, she’s going to fall asleep anyway. Professor Binns’ voice is just so monotonous. Instead, she heads to the basement and crawls through the entrance to the common room. Two flowers on either side of the door to the girls’ dormitories greet her with a song.

She heaves a big sigh and plops down on her patch-quilt sheets. Healing potions do wonders for the body, but it siphons back into mental exhaustion. Despite her desire to break apart from the world and sleep, her mind keeps running.

_“Tha’s what ya get, noble Gryffindor wannabe…”_

_“If Pipsqueak here had half as much brainless bravery as ya…”_

_“How did the ratty ol’ hat screw up wit’ ya two?”_

_“I know where I belong. Should know yer place too. Hufflepuff an’ a Mudblood, ain’t it hilarious that yer doubly useless,” the sixth-year growls under his breath._

_Doyeon feels his breathe right next to her ear as he says this, then something sharply pats her cheek. She can’t open her eyes to glare at him. She can’t move her arms to punch him back. She feels as useless as he says, because she also feels Yoojung squirming under her paralyzed waist and legs. The stinging pain in her cheek disappears and the orange sunlight glows through her eyelids. Then she hears a masculine grunt in front of her and a staccato _crack_ from behind. _Yoojung_. She wills her body to move, but it feels heavier as the seconds go by._

_“Hey Runt… good… luck… dra… ag… ing…”_

_Doyeon puts in the last of her energy to ask if Yoojung is okay, but she falls into darkness without voicing her thoughts._

Doyeon shifts in her bed, nearly falling off the edge when someone unlocks the door. The noise of it slamming shut reverberates off the walls louder than usual. It emphasizes the emptiness of the room. She thinks it’s just her housemate coming back for a forgotten book. She almost shrieks in surprise when the hangings on her four-poster are swept aside.

“Huh, she’s not here…” Sohye scratches her head in confusion.

Doyeon stares back up at her friend, hands clamped over her mouth, holding her breath.

“Maybe she went out for some air. She’s been in one place for days, that would drive anyone mad.” Sohye leaves a knotted cloth pouch on the nightstand and walks out of the room.

Doyeon lets out a shaky breath and sits up. Looking down at her hand, she sees the patch-quilt design, her pinky displaying the floor’s earthy shade of brown. The Disillusionment Charm was Yoojung’s favorite spell to cast. It’s the first one she taught Doyeon to use once they were on the Hogwarts Express their first year. She couldn’t properly cast it until three months into term though, and even then it lasted about a minute before fading.

Yoojung. How does she handle not speaking her mind? Doyeon feels like there isn’t enough time in a day to say what she wants. Too many thoughts make her want to implode. Too many emotions shuts her down. Whether she holds it in or complains all night, she doesn’t feel any lighter. Yet day in and day out, Yoojung just takes it all and returns it with a smile. Doyeon doesn’t know how she does it. How does she stand everyone saying something about her and not counter with a single word of defense? Doyeon wishes she could be like Yoojung instead. The problem is, she doesn’t know where to start picking what’s different about herself. She came to Hogwarts hoping people would stop telling her what she is or isn’t. But now she needs it.

The air is too stuffy. The quilts are too hot. The room is so silent that it’s deafening. Off in her own little place, Doyeon didn’t notice how late it’s gotten. The windows are nearly pitch black, save for the stars. They’re so far away though. She’s small, insignificant, isolated in the scope of the world. She better escape Hufflepuff Basement if she doesn’t want to infect her housemates with her loneliness. She recasts the charm and sneaks out of the common room behind a group of girls going off to dinner.

~|~|~|~

Yoojung and Somi meet up with Sohye before Potions. She says Doyeon isn’t in the dormitories and Yoojung makes a motion with her fist.

“Why would I punch her sheets? There wasn’t even a lump under them. She wasn’t sleeping, I thought she was just walking around after being stuck in the hospital wing. She didn’t come to any other lessons.”

“I wouldn’t either,” Somi scoffs. “An excuse to cut class? I’ll take it.”

Sohye side-eyes her, grumbling about Somi’s already poor attendance despite living in the castle. Turning towards Yoojung, she shrinks back slightly at the girl’s scowl.

“I’m sure she has her reasons for not showing up. It’s not like she’s avoiding us,” Sohye says tentatively.

Yoojung just sighs and rests her forehead on the stone dungeon walls. Professor Slughorn unlocks the classroom and they all file in. Somi and Sohye sit Yoojung in between them without asking. She doesn’t move anyway.

The lesson passes without any mishaps from the three, much to the professor’s relief. Yoojung makes sure Somi doesn’t handle the boiling and takes away anything reactive from Sohye. When they almost add two handfuls of dried Nettles to the potion, Yoojung catches the plants with a random colander lying around. She forces herself between her friends and the cauldron, dropping in two handfuls of chopped Star Grass instead. Somi subtly stuffs the Nettles back into a bag and resumes measuring out the Infusion of Wormwood. Without a glance in Somi’s direction, Yoojung takes the small cup out of her hand, pours the liquid back into the bottle, and hands Sohye the cup with a flask of Horklump juice. When the two start making obscene gestures at each other behind Yoojung’s back, the shorter girl raises the ladle threateningly.

“Ah!” A scream resonates from the back of the room. Yoojung stares unblinkingly at her friends, who slowly turn their heads to see what’s happening. A bright orange liquid bubbles out of the cauldron on the back table, almost splashing onto the girl again.

“Now, now. You must remain calm. It only gets worse the more you stress,” Professor Slughorn stammers, trying to pacify the student.

She only shrieks in response. Two new pulsating pimples erupt on her nose.

Professor Slughorn frantically turns towards the girl’s partner. “Mr. Venian, please escort Miss Wheeler to the hospital wing. Tell Madam Pomfrey she has a mild case of blistering from contact with an immature Cooling Concoction.”

One of the lumps pops and oozes out pus as she wails in the corner.

“Uh, perhaps more than a mild case,” he whispers to the boy.

Still in shock, the boy nods and hastily ushers the girl out of the room.

Eyes wide, Somi and Sohye look back at Yoojung, who is still holding the dripping ladle in the air. The two back away from the cauldron and start grinding beans in a mortar with their heads down. Yoojung smirks in victory and steadily stirs in a clockwise motion.

“Since when were you so talented at Potions?” Somi wonders.

“She has Doyeon for a partner, and that girl is brilliant at brewing. Of course Yoojung would’ve picked up something.” Yoojung nods at Sohye’s words. “Can’t say the same about us,” she mutters.

“Tch, what are you insinuating?” Somi says defensively.

“We’re both hopelessly inept at Potions.”

Instead of being offended, Somi admits it’s true. At least she’s not alone. “One more year, then we can drop this,” she shrugs.

“Not soon enough,” Sohye sighs.

Sohye scoops the powdered beans into the cauldron, turning the liquid a shining blue. She and Somi start packing up their ingredients and cleaning the table. Yoojung stoppers a sample of their potion and brings it to the front of the room.

“Ah, Miss Choi. May I?” Yoojung hands over the phial to Professor Slughorn.

“Beautiful shade of blue, good consistency,” he says, turning it on its side.

He holds up a piece of parchment with writing behind the phial. The words blur together. “Just translucent enough to let the light through but nothing is visible from the other side. Excellent work,” he compliments.

He bends down to Yoojung’s height and lowers his voice. “Thank Merlin for your assistance, today. I know Miss Jeon and Miss Kim have great hearts, but dear me, the frequency of accidents has skyrocketed with every year they’re in this class. I’ve been stress-eating my crystalized pineapples since their last incident.” Yoojung chuckles at this, and offers an apologetic look on her friends’ behalf.

He straightens up and returns to normal speaking volume. “By the way, how is your partner? I heard about Doyeon in the staff room, the poor girl. She’s absent, so I do hope she’s resting up.”

Yoojung nods in assurance, masking her own concern. Professor Slughorn doesn’t notice and thanks her for the potion, letting her group leave early.

Yoojung returns to her table and helps pack up the rest of the kits. Vanishing the rest of their potion, she hands the clean cauldron to Sohye. Outside the classroom, they agree to drop off their supplies and meet in the Great Hall for an early dinner. The Hufflepuff girl heads towards the basement while Somi and Yoojung begin their trek up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower.

“She’s still not back, yet,” Sohye says, settling down at the Gryffindor table. “I don’t think anyone’s been in our room since I last checked it.”

“Should we look for her? It’s… odd,” Somi asks softly.

Surprisingly, Yoojung shakes her head calmly and reaches for some mashed potatoes. She offers the bowl to Somi, who takes it with a confused expression. Somi and Sohye share a look and decide to ignore it. Perhaps the girl figured something out before dinner. Yoojung knows Doyeon better than anyone. If she thinks it isn’t something to be worried about, that must be the case.

Nobody kicks Sohye out of her seat, so she doesn’t bother moving and eats with her friends. They chat about their essay on important trials of the Wizengamot and the upcoming Charms practical. Somi begs Yoojung to help them in a sickly saccharine voice. Yoojung just shoves a dinner roll into her mouth and Sohye guffaws at her expression. She soon finds her own mouth stuffed with a corn cob, her front teeth lodged tightly between the kernels. Nearly Headless Nick scares them out of their wits, lamenting over his lack of a solid digestive system next to Sohye.

After filling up on desserts, Somi shuffles out of the Great Hall with Sohye nagging her about eating until she’s full, and not until she’s bursting at the seams. They expect Yoojung to break up their bickering, but the girl is nowhere to be found.

“How does she move so quickly on a full stomach?” Somi groans.

“Not everyone shovels food down their throat like _somebody_,” Sohye rolls her eyes.

“They haven’t made my favorite stew the past two months. I’m not about to waste the opportunity,” Somi argues as if she’s just proven magic exists.

“Well, thankfully there’s a lack of lifts at Hogwarts! Good night!” Sohye blows a raspberry and skips down to the basement.

It takes Somi a minute to understand why on earth that would be relevant. She whines at the revelation. Crowds of students around her stare in concern. She ignores them and begins waddling up the marble staircase, holding her food baby while cursing the castle’s outdated architecture.

~|~|~|~

_“Know yer place.”_

_“Just be a damn Slytherin.”_

_“Places that would better suit her.”_

_“Don’t really need you.”_

_“Yer doubly useless.”_

_“Not worth it.”_

_“A nobody like you.”_

There are too many voices. The echoes are painful to listen to. They scrape against her eardrum like nails on a chalkboard and she can’t shake them out of her head. Doyeon shifts her body uncomfortably, turning to extend her legs across the whole length of the balcony. She leans back against the brick wall and closes her eyes, trying to recollect some semblance of peace.

_“Isn’t it cute when you hug, and your head just fits right under his?”_

She didn’t expect to hear that. Right on cue, she conjures up a scene of two girls gossiping in a humid locker room. One girl is blushing from thinking about her crush. The other catches her own words and tentatively looks over at a lanky, conspicuously tall student by the wall of lockers. Doyeon’s eyes accidentally meet with the girl’s before turning away to look at a magnetic mirror in her locker. She notices her reflection is cut off the top, so she readjusts the mirror to suit her height. Oddly, the mirror starts to fog up.

She forcefully pulls herself out of years of memories. Her breaths come out short and rapid. She feels like she ran a marathon dragging a boulder.

Doyeon clicks her tongue in annoyance. “What good would it do to think about it?” She says to no one. Her words do nothing to promote confidence in herself. The answer deflates her mood more. “That’s just it. It does nothing,” she whispers bitterly.

A bookshelf in the corner scrapes against the floor, leaving deep trails in the layer of dust. Someone crawls out of the two-foot high hole in the wall and shoves the furniture back into place. They stop in the middle of the desks, observing the dark figure on the balcony.

“Thought I’d catch up on Astronomy. You know, since I missed class,” Doyeon lies without care and continues to stare at the sky.

The person looks down at the star charts sprawled over three desks, untouched since they’ve been pulled out. The brass telescope is still tucked away in its case. Black robes and a tie were thrown messily over an open bag on a nearby chair. The intruder walks the perimeter of the classroom. Doyeon swings her legs over the the balcony, making room for one more. They sit down next to her and let their legs hang freely over the open ledge.

Silence passes over them. It’s not awkward, but the air feels heavy and somber. Doyeon opens her mouth to break the ice when a small caramel toffee is gently pushed between her lips. The familiar taste sends her whirling into another memory, one without sound or a sharp quality picture, but with strikingly clear emotional delivery. She realizes she’s smiling. It’s natural and genuine, it’s easy to do.

Doyeon’s smile drops when she turns her head to address her company. Yoojung’s creased forehead makes her look like she’s aged twenty years. Doyeon feels guilty and tries to smooth them out. When it proves futile, Yoojung pulls her hand away, but doesn’t let go. Hands clasped, she rests them in her lap.

“This better not be from the original bag,” Doyeon says lightly, chewing the caramel.

She feels a squeeze on her hand. Yoojung’s expression hasn’t changed. Doyeon avoids her eyes and turns toward the open sky. The shorter girl tightens her grip a bit. With her free hand, she taps Doyeon’s knee. As if conditioned, Doyeon splays out the workings of her mind.

“Ever wonder what a star feels like?” Doyeon breathes. Without waiting for a response, she says, “We can see them all from here. They look close, a distance comparable to Sohye’s tolerance for Somi’s BS.”

Yoojung doesn’t laugh. Doyeon decides to drop her smile, which has become obligatory the longer she spoke. She feels the last bit of strain and soreness leave her cheeks.

“On the outside looking in, they seem normal. There’s nothing visibly wrong with them. And there’s so many of them, we never talk about just one. Nobody has time to dwell on the specifics. It’s usually groups of them, constellations. If it is just one star… Well, they’re extraordinary.” Yoojung listens attentively to Doyeon’s serious voice.

“But what if we went to each one? Some of them are light-years apart. That’s pretty darn far. It’s pretty darn lonely. They shine so brightly, but we’d never be able to tell them in time, before they burn out or before we pass.”

Yoojung turns her head and sees Doyeon’s eyes aren’t flitting across the scenery like usual. They’re unfocused, though her head is still tilted up. That’s when Yoojung knows Doyeon is lost in her own world. She lets the girl talk her way back out.

“If we can see all of their lights, then they can see each other too. Maybe they compare themselves. One star shines brilliantly, another lives longer, yet another is larger, and another is a fantastic color. You also have stars that are duller, burn out quicker, are smaller, are just the average white-glowing variety. But they’re still stars no matter what, right?”

Yoojung nods fervently even though she knows Doyeon won’t notice.

“What kind of star are they? Can we say they’re a good or bad star? Star standards.” Doyeon snorts at the ridiculousness of her words. “I wonder if they can kick each other out from being ‘real’ stars. Like they could have their own reject stars.”

She knocks on the balcony floor like a gavel in a courtroom. “‘You’re not star-quality, go shine somewhere else,’” she demands in a deep, authoritative, pompous voice while pointing at the air.

There’s no sound from Yoojung. Doyeon doesn’t check for a physical response. Instead, she closes her eyes and breathes in deeply. The cool air feels like it’s spreading through her veins, chilling every inch of her flesh. It doesn’t make her shiver though. It’s like a pressing force, paralyzing her from the tips of her fingers and toes and snaking its way up.

Suddenly, she feels dizzy. Her head grows heavy with thoughts piling on top of each other. At the same time, they’re trying to evaporate out of her skull, and it feels weightless and pressurized, like a balloon struggling to escape its tethering. Then, something pokes a hole in her mind. Everything flushes out. She sees black and the ground under her disappears. A landscape appears without warning, blindingly white and bare, the ground very solid and seemingly pushing up against her weight. It keeps her from falling, but she can’t jump now either. Her feet are as heavy as cinderblocks.

She blinks. Her surroundings morph into focus. There’s a line that goes on for miles. In an instant, the flat ground under her bends awkwardly, shifting her weight distribution. She turns her feet sideways like a tightrope walker. She falters and crouches down to keep her balance, her hands groping for any substance to hang onto. Looking down in alarm, she sees steep slanting slopes on either side, as if she’s standing on the edge of a triangular prism. She doesn’t believe her eyes. This place was supposed to be locked away for good. She didn’t want to be back here. But something’s different about it.

A distant buzzing noise grows in volume. All of the sound is trapped in her ears so she’s forced to listen to it. A clear, nasally male voice rises above the rest of the chatter. The triggered sensation of paralysis makes her skin jump. Her head jerks up at the sound of footsteps approaching. Black shoes, black flowing robes, a name tag, a tie, a golden canine tooth nestled in a derisive smirk. The Slytherin boy’s mouth syncs with his echoing voice, the same conversation put on repeat. Doyeon is frozen in place. The boy springs forward, knocking her off her feet and onto her back. Winded, she feels the line cut deep into the flesh between her shoulder blades. She flaps her arms out, her palms creating friction with the steep sloping ground on either side of the line. The boy grasps the line with one hand and swings himself off the edge to hang. His feet plant themselves flat against the slope on Doyeon’s right. With his free hand, he paws at Doyeon to yank her down by the foot.

“No, don’t! I can’t!” She cries, attempting to escape without slipping.

His fingers stop just inches away. An unfamiliar voice booms across the landscape.

“You are strong and brave.” It’s concise and said with finality.

With a strange sense of warmth flowing from her ears to her foot, she kicks the Slytherin square in the chest. Doyeon finds the boy disintegrating before her eyes. His body falls backward, no longer supported by his arms, as each particle falls away. The ashes drop into the pit below, but the smoke lingers in the air. It looks ominously alive. Doyeon struggles to right herself. She manages to get back on her feet and turns around, running away from the dark mass following her.

She collides with someone and falls forward on top of them. Her hands press hard against the white slanted surfaces to keep herself from falling over or crushing the person beneath her. Checking who she could have possibly tripped over in this barren synthetic wasteland, she sees the disgusted screwed up face of Heather. Doyeon screams internally. Her sweating hands slip half an inch against the floor, so she doesn’t dare try to get up. The girl’s high-pitched nagging cuts through the air. Unlike the Slytherin boy, her mouth moves completely out of sync, only forming words after her voice has spoken. It’s creepily continuous. Visually, audibly, she’s always saying something and every comment physically pricks and prods at Doyeon. Her hands slip more with the increasing pain in her sides. When her elbows start to give way, Heather shoots out a hand to grab a fistful of Doyeon’s hair. The other hand bunches up the collar of Doyeon’s robes. Seething, Heather spits out insults of Doyeon’s dirty, lying, cheating, _despicable_ personality.

“You don’t belong in _my_ world,” Heather hisses, emphasizing every syllable.

_There’s no way out of this,_ Doyeon thinks hopelessly.

“You are cunning and calculative.” There it was again. The voice was louder.

Heather growls up at Doyeon and rolls over. Doyeon instinctually closes her eyes, bracing herself to be dragged down the slope. But the voice instills in her the need to try. Thinking fast, she blindly reaches out for the edge where the line is painted and puts her own weight into the roll. She swings sideways, hanging vertically by one arm, stomach against the slope. The extra force of her rolling has completely pushed Heather off. Doyeon feels the hold on her hair and robes disappear painlessly. Opening her eyes, she sees Heather drift through her like a ghost and burn up into embers. The sooty particles tumble down into the pit.

Breathing harshly, Doyeon pulls herself up and balances on the edge separating the slopes. She sees level ground up ahead and carefully makes her way along the line. Suddenly, someone crawls up the slope on her left, fingers scraping across the leftover residue of Heather’s existence. Doyeon shrieks out of fright. They lift themselves up onto the ledge in front of her.

Nick stares at her with a bored, judging demeanor. Doyeon flinches when he reaches into his pocket, thinking he’s going for his wand. Doyeon doesn’t feel hers anywhere in her sleeves. He pulls out a black pouch. The coins inside jangle as they roll over each other. The metallic clinks lingering in the air seem to whisper a single word. _Worth._ Nick loosens the drawstring and overturns the pouch, letting the coins pour out into the empty space. They clatter all the way down, repeating the same word in their wake. From behind his back, he conjures a tar-black bubbling potion. The longer he holds it, the thinner the flask becomes.

“This is your fault,” he says plainly.

“How?!” She shouts desperately. “I didn’t—”

“You weren’t what I needed. Seemingly intelligent, but lacking the reputation. What on earth do you expect me to judge you on, if not that?” This Nick doesn’t pause to think. He sounds collected, well-organized in thought, superior.

Doyeon tries to speak despite the lump caught in her throat. “Houses are just—”

“Titles? That’s not what everyone else says. So who would listen to you? Someone like you. Just. Isn’t. Worth it,” he taunts and aims the flask at her head.

Doyeon bites back her retort in order to dodge it. The potion corrodes the rest of the cork and glass in mid-air, releasing itself from its confines. Just inches from her eyes, the liquid blobs come to a halt.

“You are sensible and capable.” The voice sounds closer, clearer. Doyeon feels someone shaking her shoulders but nobody is next to her.

The blobs suddenly become high definition. Doyeon can see all the individual components and lists them off by sight in her head. When she does, the liquid separates itself accordingly. Doyeon knows she shouldn’t touch anything, this was something highly corrosive just seconds ago. But the voice whispers to her, telling her to move forward. It says to fix it, “I know you can.”

Doyeon reaches out and pinches the edge of a yellow liquid pooling out on the side. The rest of the puddle follows where Doyeon pulls it. It floats through the air like a thin film and disappears. She cups her hand and sweeps away half of a black solid substance, brushing it off like dirt. It disappears too. She keeps editing without thinking, and the voice keeps praising her. When she no longer hears it, she scoops everything together and it swirls back into one giant mass, now an inviting soft pink.

She steps back, not knowing what to do next. This seems to be the trigger. The splashes of potion suspended in the air spontaneously reverse direction. It sears Nick’s bare skin and robes on contact. Everything sizzles into disgusting dried bits that flit down after Heather’s ashes.

She can’t handle this any longer. This bare white landscape contrasting with the grueling gory stains of human presence. Even for wizards, this is too unrealistic, yet she’s witness to it all. It’s too much to take in. Doyeon expects to be hyperventilating by now, but her lungs feel compressed and solidified. She can’t panic even if she wants to.

“We don’t need you,” a voice says from behind, dripping with pity.

Doyeon turns around to see Kelsi standing farther away, perfectly poised on the line. The Captain tosses the Quaffle into the air and retracts her hands behind her back. Doyeon instantly moves to catch it, but her ankle rolls and she tumbles down a slope. Gripping onto the line like she’s hanging off a cliff, she swings a leg up to straddle it and pulls herself up. She sees the Quaffle falling down into the pit. It dissolves into smoke as it nears the bottom.

Among the chaos that is this illusion, Doyeon feels like she’s failed herself. The rule is engrained in her. Chasers. Quaffles. You don’t have one without the other. One of them is gone forever. So what does that make her?

“You are dedicated and faithful,” the omnipotent voice says. It’s huskier than before.

Doyeon returns her attention to movement in front of her. Kelsi looks apologetic. She lobs a Beater’s club over the opposite side. She sits on the edge and pushes herself to slide down after it. With a flash of blue light, the tail of Kelsi’s yellow Quidditch robes disappear. Taking advantage of the lack of a hostile obstacle, Doyeon stands up to run.

She only takes two steps forward when a woman in business-casual clothing blocks her path. By now she’s gotten the gist of why these certain people are popping up out of nowhere, even if she doesn’t understand why they’re appearing at all.

“You don’t want me here,” Doyeon blurts angrily, referring to her old school the counselor works at.

“On the contrary, I think this is _exactly_ where you belong.” The woman’s voice is uncharacteristically cold and raspy. Her head tilts slightly towards Doyeon’s right, where the other three students wasted away.

“A place…” She snickers, “for the deviants, the unwanted, and the undefined.” The counselor advances towards Doyeon.

“No. No! You’re wrong! I-I don’t belong there!” Doyeon chokes out, backing away.

A force emanating form the dark pit seems to be pulling her in closer and closer. Her body leans to the side involuntarily. She tries to keep her feet planted on the line. She tries to tilt towards the spotless, inviting white slope on the opposite side. She doesn’t feel like she deserves to be there, not in the least. But she’s scared and desperate. It’s not a solid enough reason for the counselor though.

“Tsk tsk. You sound just like a child. Shouting at me won’t give you answers. You aren’t even sure of your place. How is anyone else supposed to be?” The lady scoffs with a lecturing tone. “When the world can’t categorize you, when the world can’t applaud your great successes, it disposes of you here, where unsatisfactory outliers can be forgotten.”

“_Doyeon_…”

“I don’t know—” Her foot slips as if something cut under her. “No! No, I know! I belong there! I want to go there!” She claws at the air as if swimming, trying to propel herself closer to the other side. If she’s going to fall, she at least wants to fall there.

“But wanting something isn’t enough. You have to make it happen. The world has to _acknowledge_ your worth.”

The weight of the words are crushing Doyeon on either side. Her limbs grow heavy and she starts suffocating from her sobs. She looks longingly at the glowing basin in front of her. Then, she gives up. Closing her eyes, she relaxes her muscles. But she doesn’t fall backward. Something pushes her forward. Talons lightly graze the back of her head, warm feathers brushing against her hair. As she floats down the slope of light, she spots the shadow of an owl soaring above her, its majestic wings spread wide.

~|~|~|~

“Doyeon!”

Doyeon’s eyes fly open, her ears ringing. She’s no longer floating. She’s lying flat on her back, sore and sweating against the cold stone brick floor. It’s a foreign feeling. It’s as if the ground shot up to meet her in the air as she crash-landed. Looking around, the place isn’t blindingly white. The room is dark save for only one recently lit torch in a wall bracket, its flickering flames casting shadows along the walls. Beyond the balcony, the moon is full and unobscured by clouds. The stars twinkle disarmingly, as if welcoming her back to the world.

“Who are you?” The calm, husky all-knowing voice says.

Doyeon’s eyes shift as far as she can move her head. Someone is looming over her body, shaded from the firelight. They help her into a sitting position, a comforting hand rubbing circles on her back. When the moonlight hits their face, Doyeon recognizes Yoojung’s concerned expression.

“Who are you?” Doyeon clearly sees Yoojung’s lips moving. The sound seems to vibrate from her throat directly into Doyeon’s ears.

“You… You spoke…” Doyeon whispers, still gasping for oxygen.

“I’ve been speaking this whole time,” Yoojung says.

Evidently, it’s taken all of the girl’s strength and composure to do so. She’s shaking like a leaf. Her lip is quivering. In retrospect, Doyeon notices the airiness of Yoojung’s voice. It holds a tone of certainty, but its years of disuse is obvious. The only thing that’s stable are her piercing eyes trained on Doyeon.

“Now, answer me,” Yoojung demands. “Who are you?”

_What’s your name?_ she thinks. “I’m Doyeon,” _and I don’t have amnesia_, she’s about to say.

“I know that, do you? You are _Doyeon_.” Yoojung obviously means something different.

“What?”

“Tell me who Doyeon is, what she’s like, what she does, what she thinks.”

Doyeon’s mind pulls a blank. But she’s sitting on the solid very-real floor of the deserted Astronomy Tower, pulled far away from the balcony drop-off with her best friend next to her. She feels safe. So she shares the one truth she’s held inside all this time.

“I can’t,” Doyeon says slowly. “I don’t know who Doyeon is. I’ve… I’ve got no identity.”

Doyeon exhales deeply and feels all of her worries flow out. She feels light, empty, just on a plane of existence. It’s oddly relaxing. And it’s definitely a step up from what she felt before. Yoojung seems especially proud at this declaration.

“What better way to talk with you for the first time, then,” she smiles.

Doyeon feels the hand on her back stop shivering. Yoojung’s expression softens, like she’s getting used to her own voice, pleased with its timbre. She settles on the floor next to Doyeon with an arm wrapped around the girl’s waist to make sure she doesn’t collapse again. Yoojung clears her throat, seemingly excited to do that for once.

“Doyeon is the kind of girl who acts like nothing’s wrong. She’s trusting, and helpful. So trusting and helpful that she braved the dangers of public vegetation to retrieve a toy, and let a strange girl drip brown liquids onto her bleeding arms.” Doyeon laughs at the memories streaming in. Yoojung is glad this is off to a good start.

“She’s pretty attentive to her friends, especially when they’d rather hide in the Forbidden Forest than be where they are.”

It sounds vague, but Doyeon has learned to converse with Yoojung in every possible way. Now that her friend is actually speaking, it’s just that much easier to understand her. Doyeon allows herself to reminisce, much more calmly now. She remembers the first week the professors introduced wand-work in classes. The school had been abuzz with gossip of a kid who could do nonverbal magic upon initial spell casting. It wasn’t until Doyeon got to Transfiguration that she learned Yoojung was the center of attention, though the girl looked like she was about to blast a hole in the floor and hop in.

The first task had been simple enough, changing between needles and matchsticks. It took a lot of kids a few tries. When Doyeon successfully transfigured hers, she wriggled in her seat, happy at having personally performed a spell. She was still in her magic-is-so-awesomely-amazing phase. Turning to tell Yoojung, she realized everyone around them was staring at the girl. There were five perfectly parallel needles on her desk and she hadn’t made a sound. A girl sitting in front of Doyeon rapped on Yoojung’s desk, pressuring her to prove she could cast nonverbally. Under the intense stares, Yoojung submitted. Five silver needles turned back into plain wooden inch-long sticks, one after another. The class erupted.

Some students bent over in their seats, balancing on two chair legs, and invaded Yoojung’s personal space. Initially proud of her friend, Doyeon quickly grew annoyed. Yoojung was visibly uncomfortable and literally had nowhere to run. She couldn’t so much as turn around without someone else poking their nose into her breathing space. Doyeon squeezed herself between two students and knelt down to Yoojung’s eye level.

“Cool, you changed them so quickly! Isn’t magic great, everyone? I mean, that’s what we’re all doing, _right?_” Doyeon stared pointedly at the nosy people crowding the area.

“An excellent question, Miss Kim,” came a stern voice from the side of the classroom. Everyone looked right to see Professor McGonagall eyeing each one of them with a raised eyebrow. “How are you all progressing with the task? Perhaps if you spent a little less time ogling at your classmates, and a bit more time practicing on your own, you would have something to show by now,” she said when nobody answered.

There’s a moment of silence before the students scrambled to their seats, whipping out their wands and attempting to transfigure their matchsticks by any means necessary. Nobody bothered Yoojung directly about her spell casting after that.

The entire scene flashes before Doyeon’s eyes in all of three seconds. The nostalgia warms her up like chocolate. Then she hears Yoojung’s voice drop, a bit more serious.

“Sometimes that gets her into trouble, though,” Yoojung says guiltily. “Trouble that wasn’t meant for her.”

Doyeon thinks of the time she spent in the hospital wing. Then she thinks of the days Yoojung visited her, immediately after her own stay during the first night. Doyeon’s fists ball up, her knuckles turning white.

“It’s not like it was your fault,” Doyeon grits through her teeth.

“It happened because I was there—“

“It happened because _they_ were there,” she almost shouts.

She immediately regrets speaking when she sees Yoojung’s shocked expression. But then relief floods her at the smile on the girl’s face.

“And imagine what would’ve happened if _Doyeon_ wasn’t there,” Yoojung continues.

“We were knocked out cold because I couldn’t stand up to them,” Doyeon says dully.

“_We_ were knocked out _together_ because you _did_ stand up to them,” Yoojung corrects. “I know you know how terrified I was by myself. I was cowering against a wall and couldn’t even ask you for help when you were standing in front of me. Then you held up your wand not to one, but all three of them. Bravery doesn’t mean dueling for your life. It doesn’t mean fighting fire with fire. What is it Muggles say? You “took a bullet” for me. The courage required for sacrifice one-ups that for self-defense in my book.”

Doyeon is half enraptured by Yoojung’s newfound voice, half amazed at how deeply she thought about that day. Doyeon is extremely thankful for Yoojung’s words, they’re precious. But Yoojung notices this just as easily as Doyeon can read her. The taller girl is thankful, yes, but still unconvinced.

“Tell me more about Doyeon.” She feels less pompous asking about herself in third person. Yoojung started it anyway.

“Well, she’s a talented witch, really smart, even for a teenager. She’s gotten me out of some tight spots in class. I don’t have nearly as many botched-up essays to my name as I should for not being able to do something. She always made sure I at least scraped up an Acceptable.” Yoojung faces the balcony, eyes curving when she grins.

A large dark ball of fluff drifts through the opening towards Doyeon. She flinches before realizing it isn’t a catapulted flask of acid. It must have floated up from the gardens below. A Furry Flat Trap probably caught some mice and spit up a fur pellet. Yoojung and she haven’t been to the greenhouses recently to burp them. Yoojung gently pats Doyeon’s hip, making sure she knows she’s safe here. Doyeon clears her throat, pretending it didn’t affect her.

“According to him, my— Doyeon’s background credentials weren’t sound enough to reject him properly,” she mutters.

“So one kid is extremely superficial. Skills like Doyeon’s aren’t meant to be tossed aside and buried just because people like him won’t appreciate them. Use them properly. They’re made to shine, just like…” Yoojung’s eyes shift to the starry night sky. Doyeon looks a bit more persuaded.

“Some people are just… surprised, when aptitude comes from somewhere they’re not looking. The unexpected confuses them. It throws everything out of whack.” Yoojung leans into Doyeon’s side. She cups her hand next to her mouth and whispers loudly, “I just think they’re not looking hard enough.”

Yoojung’s voice has grown raspy from so much talking at once. Doyeon kindly transfigures her telescope into a glass. Yoojung pulls out her wand, says the incantation aloud, and the glass immediately fills with clear, chilled water. She sets it down next to her and continues her train of thought.

“Now, Doyeon really gets a bad rep when those two things are put together. Somehow it was decided that taking risks for others and being intelligent meant you were doing the two for the wrong reasons. Somehow it meant she was being selfish and used her skills irresponsibly,” Yoojung says with mixed confusion and thoughtfulness, as if breaking down a multi-part problem.

Doyeon remembers heading down to the Great Hall for lunch with her friends after Transfiguration about two weeks before the winter holidays. Standing in front of Gryffindor’s hourglass was a girl from Ravenclaw, looking disdainfully at the rubies before heading inside to her table.

“You can’t possibly say that was the right thing to do,” Doyeon says incredulously. As much as she wants Yoojung to make her feel better, it can’t be done with blatant lies.

Yoojung laughs, thinking the same thing. “No, you really shouldn’t have done that. I’m a big girl, I’ll even take a detention from McGonagall if I can’t keep up. That’s what practicing and studying are for. Not everything comes easy.”

“But…?”

“But if you think it was wrong, why did you do it?”

“It’s you. Why wouldn’t I? I don’t want you to have extra homework or a marred record just because you can’t cast one spell. You were having a bad day, anyway,” Doyeon answers immediately.

“If you think so, then what’s bothering you?”

“I— I don’t know.” Doyeon stops short. “I guess it’s like she said. If I was going to act like that anytime you needed help, maybe I should’ve been put—”

“You’re pretty dense if you think Slytherins are the only ones who slide by the rules every now and then. Or if you think being a Slytherin is all about raising hell. Cunning doesn’t equate to evil, contrary to popular belief. I thought you knew that.” Yoojung bumps their shoulders. Doyeon feels a bit offended since it’s Yoojung saying this, but she waits for clarification.

“Think of it like this. The rules don’t apply when it comes to your friends. I said you’re attentive, you’re also protective. You don’t hesitate to jump in for them. But you’re not reckless about it either. Be honest with me, you knew you could cast the spell properly and that you wouldn’t be caught, even if you realized it after transfiguring the hedgehog for me.”

Yoojung waits expectantly, already knowing the answer. Doyeon opens her mouth to refute it for the sake of arguing back, but clamps it shut instead. She reluctantly agrees and Yoojung looks smug as ever. Doyeon feels the need to say something that validates her thoughts.

“Alright, let’s say you’re right about everything. So I’ve got my foot in one house, my arm in another, head peeking in a third.”

“You’re already sorted into the fourth,” Yoojung adds.

“Doesn’t feel like it anymore. I’m—“

“Bitter? Salty? Take your pick.” Yoojung feels like she might have touched a nerve, but Doyeon’s annoyed grimace smooths out soon enough.

“I know you weren’t expecting to get a position on the team at all when you tried out. You don’t even play.”

“Yeah, but… I don’t know. Once I got out there, I felt this sense of purpose. I wanted to play, just once. I wanted to know what it felt like to be part of the team, to be known, to be on the inside,” Doyeon sighs, confused at her own words.

Yoojung takes the liberty of ironing out Doyeon’s thoughts for her. “You could’ve, had you taken the Beater position.”

Yoojung is trying to lead her somewhere and it’s a tad annoying. Because good heavens, Yoojung shouldn’t be straightforward when Doyeon is struggling to think clearly. No, of course not. But it is Yoojung, so she deals with it.

“Why didn’t you want to be a Beater? It’s something you’re good at, like with Potions and Transfiguration. And the Captain recognized it in an instant, praised you for it.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want it per se. But I signed up to be a Chaser, that’s what I set my sights on, even if it was only for a week. It’s… It’s not often I get to make a choice. So when I finally could, when I finally wanted to do something purely for myself, I went for it. I stuck with it,” Doyeon trails off.

“Exactly,” Yoojung grins. “Kind of like when a strange, potential stalker told you to go to a school to learn magic just because he could recite your post,” she says. Doyeon smiles knowingly.

“Being faithful doesn’t only refer to other people. It means yourself too. It’s up to you to settle for something you didn’t want, or to keep trying for something more. Would you be satisfied with accepting the Captain’s offer?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Doyeon says. “I mean, I felt pretty crumby—”

“Salty,” Yoojung coughs. Doyeon shoves her lightly.

“I didn’t like not making the official team, but maybe you’re right. I didn’t want to settle for something else either. Not when I could help it.”

Yoojung claps her hands like she's dusting them off after a full day’s work. “Well, there you go. That’s it. That’s you.”

Doyeon realizes something. They haven’t been using her name for a while. They aren’t talking about Doyeon now, they’re talking about her. _Doyeon_ and _her_ are starting to be one and the same. Maybe Yoojung is onto something.

“Me?” She thinks aloud.

“Yup, you. All of it. Everything in between. All the defined lines, all the grey areas. That’s you.”

“That’s… messy.” Doyeon scrunches up her face.

“But that’s the point!” Yoojung exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. “People are messy. You’re any combination of those things.”

“People don’t seem to like that,” Doyeon says skeptically.

“Do people have to?” Yoojung isn’t being mean, she wants Doyeon to seriously consider this.

“Well, no. But it would be nice?” By the look on Yoojung’s face, Doyeon has to dig a bit deeper than that. “No, no they don’t have to like it. They don’t have to like me,” she says definitively.

“So what’s your new problem?”

“That they don’t like me and they care enough to let me know!” She grunts, kicking the wall. She ends up pushing herself backwards into a desk. Rubbing the back of her head, she says, “If they’re not going to like who I am, I just wish they wouldn’t notice me. I don’t need to be extraordinary in this or excel at that. I don’t need to be put on a pedestal. I just want to be normal. People in the crowd don’t get picked on, they’re _part _of the crowd. It’s the ones sticking out at odd angles that get noticed for just being there, for just being in general.”

“I finally get it,” Yoojung laughs.

“What?” Doyeon huffs. Here she is ranting her heart out just like Yoojung wanted, and she’s off in her own world? Rude. Doyeon would never be mad at her, but _rude_. She sighs, “What do you get?”

“I’ll admit, there’s always some basis in stereotypes, they weren’t just made up on the spot.”

“So nothing you said applies?” Doyeon interrupts.

“Shh, let me finish. You’ve got a bit of everything, kind of like that woman from the North American school,” Yoojung says, rubbing her chin.

“The one Somi was going on about? She got to choose her house.”

“Why didn’t you choose?”

“It doesn’t work like that here?” Doyeon says confused. “The Sorting Hat put me in Hufflepuff as soon as it touched my head.”

“You could’ve told it where you wanted to go. I told you about the houses before we left London. Most other students, even Muggle-borns, have expectations of which house they’d prefer,” Yoojung pushes.

“Since when did I have that authority? You wait to be told where to go and hope you’ll fit right in! That’s the system!” Doyeon says exasperatedly.

Yoojung raises her eyebrow at Doyeon, and then it finally clicks.

“I’ve been waiting. And waiting, and waiting. So the hat did what I wanted it to and—“ She stops breathing. She can’t say it out loud, not with her own mouth. It’s too embarrassing to admit.

“You wanted to be accepted?” Yoojung suggests helpfully.

There it is. Doyeon doesn’t speak. Her pulse is so strong, she can hear it at the base of her ears. The tension is so thick, you could cut it with a Severing Charm. She feels like jumping off the balcony and hiding in a Werewolf den in the Forest. It feels so weak to acknowledge something so trivial. People are starving in the world, people are at war. People are being killed off for a dark wizard’s benefit and enjoyment. And here she is with her teenage drama, wanting to be _accepted_.

“Stop thinking,” Yoojung whispers. She clasps Doyeon’s hands tightly in her own.

“Listen to me,” she says, turning so they’re facing each other. “You’re important to me, to Somi and Sohye, to your parents, to my parents, to my _owl_. We love you just the way you are. What you see as lackluster flaws, what you think puts you on the fringe of normality, we see as your greatest strengths. We love that you’re different. I don’t want to be friends with just anyone. I want to be friends with you, Doyeon.”

Doyeon stares down at her lap, straining her ears to catch every word. Yoojung tugs on her arms. She just nods her head, motioning to Yoojung that she’s listening.

“You think it shouldn’t be a problem. You think it’s stupid. But it’s affecting you, and that’s not stupid at all. You’re going to hear me say this explicitly.”

Doyeon waits for her to continue, but Yoojung’s voice ends at that. Thinking the girl might have a latent concussion from her fractured skull, she looks up in alarm. Yoojung is perfectly calm and conscious. As soon as they lock eyes, Doyeon can’t pull away. Yoojung emphasizes each word to make sure it gets through Doyeon’s head.

“I accept you. I accept who you are, what you do, how you think and I will never go back on my word. I will always be here for you.”

They stare at each other for what seems like an eternity. Yoojung doesn’t want to be the first to break eye contact. She doesn’t want to give Doyeon any reason to think she’s lying or being insincere. She wants Doyeon to internalize it, to brand these words inside her head so she can put them on replay. And if they fade away, Yoojung will say it again and again. Doyeon needs to know. She needs to believe it.

Doyeon doesn’t know when she started crying. Yoojung lightly wipes the tears off of Doyeon’s cheek with her thumb. With the hand that’s still connected, Doyeon roughly pulls Yoojung in for a hug before bawling into her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she hiccups.

Yoojung feels at ease talking to Doyeon, but there’s nothing else to say. So she just tightens her hold instead. Doyeon revels in the security. They spend the rest of the night in the Astronomy Tower staring up at the peaceful, twinkling stars.


	4. Free Response

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a teacher really tries to give you the bulk of the points in partial credit. It’s so much more, so much deeper, than “this or that” or “one of these.” There’s no one right answer, so long as you try. Sometimes you need a push to get your pen to the paper. It’s all you. So it kills you to see everyone stamp an X over your heart and soul, but there’s a silver lining when one person writes “Good job!” in the margins. Take it and run with it.

Yoojung yanks Doyeon down by the collar to whisper “I accept who you are” into the girl’s ear. She does this every morning when they meet in front of the Great Hall for breakfast. She does this every evening when they leave the library after studying and part ways to their dormitories. She does this when Doyeon passes behind her to get to the store cupboards in Potions. She does this when a second rat scurries onto her desk in Transfiguration and Doyeon reaches over to grab it by the scruff of its neck. She even braves saying it out loud in the empty greenhouses after classes when they scrape the beans out of Snapping Snowpepper pods, which oddly only grow in the hottest, muggiest greenhouse on the grounds.

At first, Doyeon wriggled and fidgeted whenever Yoojung said it. It felt so cringeworthy, more so now that there were other students milling about. But, as Yoojung expected, Doyeon grew more comfortable hearing it. It meant she wasn’t ashamed to think such a thing. It meant she was starting to believe it. And the more she believed it, the more she would accept herself for being who she is. Yoojung was pretty darn proud.

One morning, Sohye fusses to Doyeon about their Transfiguration practical. They decide to get some breakfast and bring it outside to study without other people disturbing them. At the same moment they come up to the Entrance Hall, Somi and Yoojung reach the bottom of the staircase. Doyeon and Yoojung offer to get the food while Somi and Sohye find a shaded spot by the lake.

There’s a crowd of girls by the Gryffindor table where a brooding teenage boy has announced the end of his relationship. The students are openly sympathetic for the boy, but subtly antagonistic towards the other prospective girlfriends lined up. Doyeon veers off to the right to get food from her table instead. Walking past the Ravenclaw table, she sees a girl muttering incantations nonstop while flicking her wand indiscriminately. Doyeon immediately recognizes the sharp nose buried deep in the notebook. Conscious of this, Yoojung tugs her a bit farther away and hastens her steps. A boy cuts in front of them on his way to the table and accidentally knocks over a bottle of grape juice.

“No! How could you do that?! Do you realize how important today is?! Ugh, you’re such a… a—” 

Nobody ever finds out what the boy is because Heather switches from an aggravated troll to a weeping mess in seconds. She stares at the sheets of parchment, dark purple liquid dissolving the ink into blurry lines. The boy breaks out of his shock and runs to her side.

“Uh, I’m sorry?” He says, patting her on the back awkwardly as if petting a sea urchin.

He looks around at the other students for help. Some look away with smirks, obviously having experienced less than pleasant conversations with Heather, and are not exactly jumping at the chance to intervene. The rest just shrug uselessly at the boy. Yoojung feels guilty for anyone that distressed, but she thinks it’s more reasonable to leave the situation alone. She tugs at Doyeon’s hand again and they slowly move towards the Hufflepuff table.

With her left arm, Yoojung balances two plates piled with bacon, eggs, and waffles. On the table is an open cloth with some pastries stacked in the middle. Wanting to ask if they should take some cheese and drinks with them, her free hand reaches out to the right. She touches nothing but air. Looking over, she sees Doyeon’s open bag lying on the floor. Before she can search for the girl, someone in front of her speaks.

“Would you like to take some of these? They’re really sweet.”

A sixth-year boy across the table offers to scoop two bowls of fresh berries for Yoojung. He also conjures two large goblets and fills them with pumpkin juice. Yoojung nods her head in appreciation and the boy goes back to eating. She jumps a bit when a hand reaches across her to tie the cloth bundle with a knot. Doyeon hangs it on her arm, loops her bag over her shoulder, and takes the goblets and bowls of fruit from the table.

“Ready?” Doyeon says casually. Yoojung nods and they head outside

Somi and Sohye meet them by the door and help them carry the food to their spot. After settling down, they dig in hungrily. Somi has worked up an appetite in the short period she was outside. Sohye explains Somi was trying to change a fallen empty nest into a glass paperweight and it somehow melted instead. Yoojung actively ignores the smoking patch of grass fifteen feet away. They finally get to the lecture from last week and practice the spells.

“Don’t get frustrated. If you randomly jab at the air, you could bore a hole through the object or blast it away. Focus on the goal, don’t do it by force. The way you think affects how you move.”

Doyeon wraps her hand around Sohye’s wrist and guides it through the wand movement. The dented metal plate on the ground morphs into a silk handkerchief.

“Oh… Oh!” Sohye realizes she casted the spell successfully for first time since learning it and thanks Doyeon. She tries again on her own, changing the other plate into cloth.

“Hey! I was using that!” Somi whines.

“Sorry,” Sohye says, not sounding sorry at all, and happily changes it back. Somi gives it a try, but nothing happens.

“You’ve got the syllables mixed up,” Doyeon explains.

“What?” Somi says incredulously, dragging out the vowel. “I’ve been saying it that way for a week! I wrote that all over my notes too. Can I see your notes? I’ll just get confused again if I look at mine.”

Doyeon reaches for her bag and jostles the books around. Yoojung scoots over to help look when Doyeon suddenly stops moving.

“Uh, actually no.” Yoojung raises an eyebrow and the unexpected response. Doyeon is usually really flexible and willing to help.

“Aw, why? I promise I’m not freeloading. Look at how much I wrote.” Somi holds up three sheets of parchment, chicken scratch lining the margins with words of varying sizes. “It’s just, you know, all the wrong things apparently…”

“It’s not that,” Doyeon smiles sheepishly. “I mean, you’re not going to have your notes in front of Professor McGonagall.”

“Well yeah, but I don’t know how to spell the incantation. And you just said I kind of need it,” Somi says, scratching her head.

Doyeon picks up a quill and scribbles the words in a free corner on the back of Somi’s notes. Somi recites it a few times, then Doyeon hides the parchment behind her back and prompts her friend to try casting the spell. Third time’s the charm when the plate fully transforms into a soft, periwinkle handkerchief. Somi lets out a piercing whoop and high fives Doyeon, who immediately recoils her hand when it stings.

“That’s the friendship,” Somi says in a singsong voice.

Doyeon laughs and turns to Yoojung. “So, how are you— Is something wrong?”

Yoojung looks suspiciously between Doyeon and Somi until she realizes she was being spoken to. She shakes her head and transfigures both plates into cloths, earning a whine from the other girls.

“Okay,” Doyeon says slowly, but offers a small smile to lighten the mood.

Yoojung rests her head on Doyeon’s shoulder. Doyeon pats her hair soothingly, thinking her friend is just tired this early in the morning. But the gears in Yoojung’s head are working overtime and it isn’t even eight o’clock yet.

The fourth-years get really antsy when it hits noon. An anonymous tip-off about a plot for cheating prompted Professor McGonagall to hold practicals in private. The wait is just as agonizing as the prospect of failing under the professor’s scrutinizing gaze. The growling stomachs don’t do much to calm their nerves either. Half of the class has gone through the small exam. Whether they passed or not is a different matter. Somi bites her nails nervously seeing the seventh student in a row swear upon exiting the office adjoining the classroom.

“Miss Somi Jeon,” Professor McGonagall’s voice carries across the chatter.

“Pray for me,” Somi squeaks before leaving her friends.

“Ugh, this is unbearable!” Doyeon groans into her hands.

“You’re nervous? You know all of this like the back of your hand,” Yoojung mumbles.

“I _did_, but having to wait makes me all fidgety and I second-guess myself. What if she stares right into my soul and I forget everything? What if I end up setting fire to her office by accident?” Doyeon dramatically shakes Yoojung by the shoulders.

A loud shout and a deafening _boom_ silences the room. Everyone looks towards the door to the office, but nobody comes out. The room bursts into noise.

“Do you think the professor got fed up and turned Somi into a guinea pig?” A girl gasps.

“Hell if she did! We have a match next week!” A boy shouts.

“Really? That’s your concern?” Someone else scoffs. The boy just shrugs.

“I should’ve been like Sohye. Fake being sick and take it first so I can spend this wonderful hour at lunch, free from my misery,” Doyeon says, sprawled across her desk.

Yoojung is about to reply when the door bangs open and Somi steps out, cheek smeared with soot and the burnt ends of her sleeves shriveling up. Doyeon straightens up immediately and shoots a pointed look at Yoojung. For emphasis, she jerks her head in Somi’s direction with such force that her neck cracks.

“You’ve got bigger problems to worry about if instead of failing, you think you’re going to cast spells like Somi,” Yoojung mutters under her breath.

Professor McGonagall, still poised and collected but with a disgruntled expression, calls Heather into her office. Some of the students milling around their friends’ desks make a pathway, staring at her as if she was on death row. To Yoojung’s surprise, instead of hissing at them like usual, Heather meekly thanks them for moving aside. Somi, meanwhile, bounds towards Doyeon’s desk with a haughty expression. Yoojung raises an eyebrow at the girl and waits expectantly.

“I failed,” Somi chirps.

Doyeon and Yoojung exchange looks that scream “has she gone mad?”

“Then…” Doyeon trails off with a questioning tone.

“I think I’ve created a new spell!” She squeals.

“The world doesn’t need any more explosives, Muggle- or wizard-made,” Doyeon deadpans.

Somi ignores her. “I can cast lightning!” She exclaims proudly, throwing her hands in the air. She visibly deflates when neither of her friends applaud her.

“Sohye would be excited—”

“I don’t think that’s the word you’re looking for,” Doyeon cuts across.

“—and I’ll tell her at lunch, now that I’m free to leave, unlike _someone_!” Somi finishes loudly.

Anything Doyeon has to say is drowned out by Somi asking Yoojung to come with her. Yoojung declines and motions that she’ll wait for Doyeon to finish up. Somi nods and crosses the room to pack up her stuff. She sticks her tongue out at Doyeon before leaving for the Great Hall.

“She… didn’t really make a new spell for lightning, did she?” Yoojung whispers.

“No, she probably just seriously mispronounced the incantation again. Seems like it worked this time.”

Their conversation is cut off when Professor McGonagall steps out, calling for Doyeon to take her practical. Yoojung wishes her good luck and waves her off. When the door closes, Yoojung’s attention is drawn to the girl standing in front of her. Heather packs her bag with a soft smile on her face. Yoojung momentarily entertains the thought that Heather is quite pretty when she’s not biting everyone’s head off for being a nuisance. But then she remembers Doyeon and ignores Heather’s presence. She collects all of Doyeon’s belongings so they can leave right after the practical is done. Someone clears their throat to get Yoojung’s attention.

“Excuse me…” Heather says sheepishly.

Yoojung also notices how soft and feminine Heather’s voice sounds when she’s not screeching about other people’s incompetence. Yoojung quickly pushes the thought to the back of her mind. She nods slightly for the girl to continue.

“Uh…” Heather looks at the office door, then back at Yoojung. “Here, tell Doyeon I said thanks. She’s a life-saver, really.”

Heather gently pushes a stack of parchment into Yoojung’s hands. They’re loaded with writing. Incredibly detailed notes neatly organized with no wasted space. There are incantations handwritten in italics, concepts of magical theory underlined, and diagrams of wand movements sketched in the margins. A chart on one of the pages lists every spell they learned that year, every object or animal they were given, what it transforms into, and shorthand notes on what to think while casting. The top right corner of every page is labeled with Doyeon’s name using the sharp-point quill she got for her birthday.

Yoojung is utterly baffled. She almost wills herself to ask Heather why she had Doyeon’s notes. Before the anxiety of speaking out loud kicks in, she notices Heather holding crumpled pieces of parchment stained a deep purple. The pages are dry, but the writing is far too illegible to be of value anymore. Heather disposes of them in a bin against the wall. She turns around to walk towards the door and catches Yoojung looking at her.

“Turns out it wasn’t grape juice,” she shrugs with a small, nervous smile. “It’s someone’s personal concoction that uses some kind of oil. Couldn’t siphon it off with magic, must be nearly impossible to clean by hand. I reckon it was meant for Filch to find splattered all over the corridors.”

Yoojung doesn’t give any sign that she heard or cared. But naturally, she did. Heather sighs at the silence.

“I know this doesn’t make up for anything I’ve said about you or Doyeon, but for what it’s worth, I’m really sorry. To put it plainly, I was horrible. To you, to her, to everyone. There’s no good way to say it. None of you deserve that, and yet…” Heather gestures vaguely around her. “It, um, it takes a lot for people to put up with me. But then there’s someone like Doyeon, who takes it all and still helps me without expecting anything in return? It’s a first, at least for me. Nobody talks to me except to cower away or tell me to get lost,” she admits.

Heather wrings her hands together waiting for a response, but she gets none. She dips her head a bit under Yoojung’s piercing gaze.

“Its definitely not my place to say this, but it’s great that you have someone like her. She’s rare. She’s special. It’s awful that all I’ve done is try to degrade her. It was immature of me. And that’s no excuse to attack the people she cares about either. So, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry to you both.”

Heather doesn’t expect an answer this time. She just nods away the awkward guilt, wishes Yoojung a good weekend, and leaves the room.

Doyeon exits the office looking positively radiant, and Professor McGonagall’s lips quirk up a bit as well. She calls the next student in with a tired sigh. When Doyeon reaches her desk, she looks weirdly at Yoojung, who’s staring at the brick wall.

“You dropped something,” Doyeon says, using her index finger to push Yoojung’s jaw back up.

Yoojung looks around the room. Doyeon thinks she’s wondering what happened while she zoned out.

“I passed! With flying colors, she said! Apparently I’m the only one who got it on the first try. I even got the extra credit for extending the tendrils out to the length she asked for,” Doyeon grins.

“Oh, congrats!” Yoojung says softly, still a bit dazed.

“You were right, there was no reason to panic. Maybe this is my thing, like _my_ thing. This is working out alright,” Doyeon sighs in satisfaction.

“I’m really happy for you. Come on, let’s go eat,” Yoojung whispers, giving Doyeon a side hug.

Yoojung subtly slides the notes into Doyeon’s bag, handing it to her by the strap. Doyeon thanks her and leads them out of the noisy classroom.

~|~|~|~

“Bloody hell—“

“That’s what it feels like—”

“I’m melting! I’m melting!”

“Leave it to wizards to dress in robes all the time.”

“Guys, the more you talk, the worse you’ll feel,” Doyeon says in frustration, rounding on them at the bottom of the stairs.

“I can’t help it! It’s too hot to keep my thoughts to myself!” Somi whines.

Sohye sways eerily from side to side. She abruptly grabs onto Somi for support, who dramatically flattens against the dungeon wall under the added weight.

“Oh thank Hippogriff feathered buns, the wall is so cold,” Somi sighs in relief.

Sohye scrambles to the space next to her without a word and anneals herself to the chilled surface. It’s a welcome refuge from the unexpected sweltering heat of mid-April. Her nose scrunches up at the heat radiating over her face. Opening her eyes, she sees a torch bracket just above her head. She faces the other way and leans her cheek against the cold stone bricks.

Doyeon feels more of her sweat pooling into the drenched collar of her robes. She pushes her sleeves up as far as they will go. The cool dungeon air rolls over her skin, but her shoulders feel twice as stuffy now. When she relaxes with her back against the wall, the sleeves unravel and insulate her arms again.

In front of her, Yoojung is trying to stay as still as possible. Her eyes are closed and she’s breathing very deeply and very slowly. Some of her hair is matted against the base of her neck, soaked through with perspiration. Just when Yoojung thinks she’s going to pass out, she feels a discontinuous breeze against her face and hears something flapping in front of her. Doyeon is fanning Yoojung with a stack of her Charms notes.

Yoojung looks at Doyeon with half-lidded eyes and reaches up to stop her. _You don’t have to—_

“Just let me. You look like you’ve sweated out five pounds walking here from the third floor,” Doyeon says, pushing Yoojung’s hand back down.

Just then, Professor Slughorn unlocks the Potions classroom. Everyone rushes in like a stampede and sinks into their chairs with a groan. Somi drags Sohye’s limp body through the door, plopping her down in her seat. She catches Sohye’s head lobbing around and places it gently on the table. Figuring the girl is way too out of it for now, Somi slowly pulls out their cauldrons and ingredients. Her annoyance grows when she sees their dried plants have partially rehydrated from the humidity. One of the packets squelches under her touch. Sticking her tongue out in disgust, she looks up at the board and reads about the potion they’re making. Thankfully, the dried materials they do need were sealed in an air-tight container. She makes a mental note to never nag about Sohye’s fussiness ever again.

On the other side of the room, Doyeon and Yoojung silently set up their stations. They mutually agree to work together and share all ingredients because neither want to move more than they have to. When Professor Slughorn gives the signal, everyone sluggishly begins brewing. Yoojung pushes her cauldron to the far side of her station and lights a fire. Doyeon does the same, grumbling about the extra heat in the room. She would wait until all of her materials are ready, but the board says to begin with boiling water, otherwise the potion will be ineffective.

Despite the heat, Yoojung diligently untangles a bundle of Knotgrass, counting exactly thirty-seven fibers for each of them. Doyeon quickly measures out two portions of thick Shocktree sap. Then she drags her feet over to the store cupboards and scoops out a cupful of Fire Seeds. She forces herself to run to her table since sweating and huffing like a bear is preferable to burning her hands. The ceramic cup becomes too hot to hold just as she reaches her station. She hears something shatter behind her and Somi hissing in pain. Doyeon immediately turns around, repairs the cup, and sweeps the seeds back into it using her foot. Somi thanks her and pulls her sleeves over her hands to carry the cup back to Sohye, nearly tripping along the way. She reminds Doyeon of a certain cartoon dwarf in a childhood movie.

By their combined efforts, Doyeon and Yoojung speed through prepping their ingredients. They move on to boiling their solutions over medium heat for twenty minutes while everyone else is still stirring in their chopped leeches piece by piece. They sit down to wait, but it’s uncomfortable now that the room is swirling with steam. Their friends’ voices float across from the other side.

“Do you have any extra leeches? I’m two short,” Sohye says.

“Yeah, over there. I quartered them,” Somi replies, pointing at the bowl by her chopping board.

Sohye walks around to the opposite side and reaches over the table to pick up the bowl. She doesn’t take three steps before the student at the next table bumps into her. She trips over her robes and the entire bowl of leeches tips into her cauldron, juice and all.

“Somi, watch out!” Sohye shouts.

Her potion hisses menacingly and shoots upward like a geyser.

“What? Gah!” Somi screams.

Somi sidesteps to dodge the splashing liquid, accidentally pouring an entire bottle of extract into her own cauldron. Her potion turns from a vibrant gold to a deep sewage green. Everyone in the vicinity pinches their nose from the rotting smell.

Another yelp sounds from Doyeon’s side of the room. She faces forward to see two boys jump aside. One of the cauldrons is bubbling over, the resulting vapor fogging up the area. Doyeon covers her mouth in time, but Yoojung inhales and goes into a coughing fit. She shoots out of her chair and scurries to the back of the room.

The class is in total disarray. Students flock back and forth trying to avoid the stench from one side and the suffocating smoke from the other. Some are torn between escaping the fumes and tending to their cauldrons. Others completely abandon the assignment and run out into the corridor for clean air.

“Now, now everyone, settle down!” Professor Slughorn says in a nasally voice.

Everyone ignores him and he figures it’s best to just solve the problem at hand than refocus his class.

“Miss Kim, will you please help Mr. Strider over there?” He says, rushing over to Somi and Sohye’s table.

Reluctantly, Doyeon walks into the heart of the smoke and fans it away by casting a weak breeze with her wand. Nick eyes her from head to toe, unsure about the help he’s getting. Doyeon looks twice as displeased at this as everyone else with stinging lungs, and rolls her eyes in annoyance. The sooner she fixes the potion, the sooner Yoojung’s face can return to its normal shade. So she deals with it.

Doyeon gets right to the point. “What did you do?” She says as polite as possible.

“Uh, it’s ok. I think he can help me,” Nick says, pointing vaguely behind himself.

Doyeon looks over his shoulder at his friend gagging while retreating to the door. She raises her eyebrow and looks back at Nick.

“I think your help left you behind.”

Nick’s head snaps back to confirm, seemingly shocked that his friend has disappeared.

“Look,” Doyeon sighs tiredly, “let me just help you get back on track so everyone can breathe again, then you won’t have to talk to me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that—” Nick starts.

Doyeon holds up her hand. “So, what did you last do? Stir it the wrong way? Add too much of something?”

“No, the book said to add a spoonful of Springleton spores, so that’s what I did. Honest.”

“Springleton spores?” Doyeon asks incredulously with a puzzled expression. “Do you know what they’re harvested from?”

Nick shakes his head. “I do the minimum. I don’t look anything up unless we have an essay,” he admits.

“Springleton spores are from a glacial fungus,” Doyeon explains.

“Okay?” Nick shrugs.

“We’re making an Energy Elixir.”

“Yeah, I read the board…”

Doyeon takes a deep breath. “An Energy Elixir increases your metabolism to produce a lot more mechanical work than your body normally would.” Nick stares at her blankly. Doyeon pauses to reword her explanation. “It… It feels like a Pepper-Up Potion cranked up to ten times the strength and duration. That’s not its main function, but the excess heat is definitely a physical side effect.”

Realization dawns on Nick’s face, much like when they spoke only once before. Doyeon pushes the memory away and recites something in her head. It calms her down.

“If I wasn’t supposed to add the spores, what did I need?”

“Fire Seeds. Didn’t you see everyone else juggling hot cups from the store cupboards?”

“I don’t really pay attention to anyone else,” Nick mumbles lazily.

“Not being rude, I genuinely mean this. You could learn quite a bit from watching others,” Doyeon says. “Anyways, the spores are probably what made it bubble, but they won’t do that by themselves. What else did you put in here?”

Meanwhile she starts adding a thin liquid from a bottle on the table to stop the cauldron from overflowing. The bubbles fizzle out and the potion reduces to a low simmer.

“Pinches of powdered spines, some Lacewing Flies, three whole skinned pickled leeches, only the core of dried Shocktree bark, the inner tubules of a bat spleen, just the top-most blades of Knotgrass…”

Doyeon’s eyebrows furrow with every ingredient Nick lists.

“Why did you add all of that? Almost none of those things go into this potion. Any that do, you’ve prepped incorrectly,” she interrupts.

“What are you talking about? It says it right here on the page.”

Nick looks skeptical again. He pulls his textbook to the edge of the table. Doyeon skims the pages and looks at Nick in alarm. Nick thinks it’s for a completely different reason and smirks back, an “I told you so” on the tip of his tongue.

“That’s weird. You would be an excellent potioneer,” Nick stands a bit taller and puffs out his chest proudly, “if this was the legitimate textbook.”

“Wait, what?” Nick splutters. Doyeon can hear the record screeching in his head.

“You’ve followed the recipe to a T. The thing is, it’s a completely fake recipe. If this was your Potions book all year, it’s no wonder you’ve been brewing nothing but disasters.”

Even Nick sees that as a fair assessment of his work since September so he stays silent.

Doyeon flips to the cover of the book. “I think this is someone’s idea of a prank. They must have replaced the cover of this fake Potions book with the cover of the real one. It’s pretty clever. All of the pages match up, but the instructions are nearly reversed. Most of the ingredients actually counteract the effect the real ingredients are supposed to have in the potion. Springleton spores are excellent for coolants while Fire Seeds give the elixir an initial source of energy to jumpstart your body upon consumption.”

Doyeon jumps a bit when she looks up and sees Nick’s face grow dark.

“My brother…” He growls. “I thought he was being a great role model, giving me his annotated books after he left Hogwarts. They were for all the classes he got N.E.W.T.s in, his last present to me before he went to work abroad.”

Doyeon feels her stomach churn uncomfortably when his expression turns from anger to defeat. Like someone else she knows, Nick has to uphold his family’s standards. The difference is that he actually had someone to lean on, and it backfired. Maybe not intentionally, but it hurt all the same.

Doyeon’s gut is trying to communicate with her again. She doesn’t fight it. She pulls out her wand, vanishing Nick’s potion. She casts a charm to fill it up with water and puts it over a newly lit flame.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Nick says a little too loudly.

“Trust me, it would be very difficult to fix what you made. It’s better if you just start from scratch, as annoying as it may be.”

“That’s going to take forever. The period’s already more than half-over.” Cue kicked puppy look.

“Well,” Doyeon says, placing her own textbook on top of Nick’s fake one, “isn’t it better to turn in a potion that’s actually what it’s supposed to be? I’ll make it with you, even if we do go past the end of the period. That is, if you want my help.” She scans the pages to review the first steps of the brewing process.

Doyeon doesn’t hear a response and tentatively looks up. Maybe Nick still thinks lowly of her skills. He stares at her thoughtfully. Doyeon notices he seems lot more collected now, not like the bumbling fool he was back in October. Or maybe it was because she bothered to look past the surface this time. His voice brings her back to the present.

“You know, you’re nothing like I expected from…” He doesn’t finish.

“Is that a bad thing?” Doyeon asks, genuinely curious.

Nick glances at his boiling cauldron, then smiles at Doyeon. “No. No, it’s definitely not,” he says. He stands in front of his cutting board awaiting Doyeon’s commands.

Doyeon directs him on prepping his ingredients. She tells him she’ll be back to help once she finishes brewing her own elixir. She stoppers her sample and places it on Professor Slughorn’s desk. While there, she explains to him the circumstances of Nick’s potion and the professor allows them the extra time to brew a new batch while thanking her profusely for being such a big help. Yoojung packs up all of her items while waiting. When Doyeon returns, she tells Yoojung to go ahead of her. The shorter girl follows Somi and Sohye out of the room. Turning back to check on Doyeon one last time, she sees her friend set up a station at Nick’s table.

~|~|~|~

“Wake… up…” Says a voice echoing in the distance.

“Dancing… Unicorns and Bicorns…” Doyeon mumbles, drool dribbling onto her quilt.

“Hey… wake up…” How annoying.

“One and… two and three… and…” Doyeon snorts and rolls over.

“Doyeon?”

“You’re off beat… Don’t tell Yoojung…” She hugs her pillow tighter.

“Wake up!”

Someone pushes Doyeon off of her bed and she tumbles onto the hard floor. Sitting up, she brushes the hair out of her face and wipes her drool with her sleeve.

“Whywouldyadothat?” She whines indiscernibly, her voice cracking like dry soil.

“It’s noon, haven’t you slept enough?” Says a sackful of sass personified.

“It’s Saturday, so no…” Doyeon answers immediately.

She blinks a few times until her vision clears. The person standing over her focuses into the image of a fussy mother hen, hands on her hips, who goes by the name of Sohye Kim.

“Well, you’re up now. Besides, don’t you have Quidditch practice?”

Doyeon’s head jerks up at this. Now wide awake with gunk in her eyes, she throws on her robes and rushes out of the room to get ready. Sohye allows herself a mocking laugh before making Doyeon’s bed. Peering out of the ground-level window, she sees Doyeon’s feet trample across the grass towards the Quidditch pitch.

“Sorry. I’m. Late,” Doyeon pants, rubbing the stitch in her side.

“Actually, you’re right on time,” Kelsi says cheerfully. She leaves to check the equipment quickly when two people approach Doyeon.

“How are you on this fine morning?” Alek says and thumps her on the back.

“Lovely day for flying, isn’t it?” Asks Tobias, gesturing grandly at the clear blue sky.

“What’s with you guys? Eat some rotten eggs?”

Doyeon shakes their arms off of her shoulders but smiles anyway. She catches them sharing a look. They slap a grin back on their faces when they turn back to her.

“What’s wrong?” She says bluntly.

“Doyeon, can I talk to you for a moment?” Kelsi interrupts.

Tobias and Alek wave away her questioning stare and motion for her to follow the Captain. She walks to edge of the stands and Kelsi leans her arm over the railing.

“Kovic’s been temporarily suspended,” she sighs.

Doyeon’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Usually this doesn’t happen, but his marks have been so low that his parents wanted him off the team. It was quite the wake-up call and he’s trying to make up his work. But our last match of the season is next week and realistically, he won’t make the deadline.”

“So you want me to take his place?” Doyeon asks slowly.

“You hate me for asking that, don’t you?” Kelsi says.

“Not at all, I’ll do it.” Doyeon breaks into an easy smile.

“Really? You will?” Kelsi jumps up in excitement. “Why? I mean it’s wonderful, but I really thought I was going out on a limb here.”

“Well, first and foremost, you’re Captain. You dictate what goes on with this team. That’s what we all agreed to when we signed up to play Quidditch. And even if you’re in charge, we all have an obligation to this team. If that means putting my skills in playing Beater for your last chance at the Cup, then I’ll do it.”

Doyeon thinks she’s just made Kelsi’s day because the Captain lifts her up by the waist and hugs her like she’s a hero. The rest of the team looks over at Kelsi’s uncharacteristic behavior, but it seems like they knew about the issue because they all visibly relax. The two rejoin the group and Kelsi slips into her authoritative persona to begin a rigorous practice.

A week passes and Kovic has only raised two of his five failing marks. Yoojung, Sohye, and Somi are already up in the stands decked out in yellow and black attire, some of which may or may not have been stolen from Doyeon’s wardrobe. Doyeon pulls on her gear and checks over the state of her broom. Satisfied with the tail twigs, she picks up a Beater’s bat and gives it a test swing or two, stretching her arms and shoulders. Kelsi gathers everyone in the changing room to give them her last pep talk of the season. Just before they move out onto the pitch, she stops Doyeon around the corner.

“Thank you, again, it really means a lot to me,” Kelsi says sincerely.

Doyeon smiles at the unfamiliar gentle tone coming from the Captain. “No problem, I’m happy to do this. Let’s win this match.”

Kelsi takes her place at the center of the pitch while Doyeon stands off to the right. When the whistle blows, everyone kicks off into the air.

The match starts off well with Hufflepuff in possession of the Quaffle. The Bludgers whip around the perimeter but don’t fly in anyone’s way. Their Seeker, Zoe, keeps a close eye on the Snitch while waiting for the Chasers to scores some points. Gryffindor is tied with another house for the Cup thanks to Somi’s triple-goal tactic in the previous match against Ravenclaw. So if Hufflepuff wins today, they’ll be in the lead. Unfortunately, they’re up against Slytherin who have an excellent line-up this year, but who are notorious for playing rough. Slytherin is like an angry bull that bulldozes the concept of strategy. But there’s determination in the air. Hufflepuff soars across the pitch, their bold yellow and black robes screaming “don’t mess with us.”

The Chasers keep shuffling the Quaffle between them to keep it moving. It does a good job of confusing the Slytherins at first, but they catch on quickly. A Chaser donning emerald green robes closes in on Tobias. Just as he reaches to knock the ball away, he pulls up and out of sight. Tobias doesn’t have to time to think it’s odd and races towards the goalposts. A shadow looms from his left side. Out of reflex, he pulls back on his broom and slows down. The Bludger flies right at him, but someone cuts across his path from the right and swats it away with extraordinary force. Doyeon curves around the border of the stands and motions for Tobias to get moving. He sees an opponent approaching so he tosses the Quaffle up to Kelsi who smoothly guides it into the left hoop. Ten points for Hufflepuff and the day has just begun.

The teams are neck and neck, neither giving in. Just when they’re tied with Slytherin, Doyeon and Connor, the other Hufflepuff Beater, shield Kelsi with a double-swing. The two Bludgers shoot off like cannonballs, splitting up the Chaser formation guarding Slytherin’s Keeper and hoops. Kelsi throws the Quaffle ahead to Alek, who backflips and sends the ball through the unprotected center goalpost. The score is eighty to seventy with Hufflepuff in the lead. Kelsi calls for a time-out. Madam Hooch blows her whistle and the players descend onto the pitch.

“I don’t mean to be pushy, but I don’t have many more tricks to keep their Seeker off my tail. He’s spotted the Snitch quite a few times already from following me around,” says Zoe.

“I know, but we need to be at least sixty points in the lead and their offense is just as strong as their defense this year,” Kelsi sighs.

“So what do we do? Our tactics only keep us afloat. We’re not making any headway,” Tobias says, crossing his arms in frustration.

Connor nudges Doyeon with his elbow. He’s is a lot like Yoojung. He does speak, though not much, especially not when there’s people around. He’ll add his two cents every now and then, only if he’s absolutely certain though. Any doubt at all, he’ll shut up like a clam.

“We’ll take the offensive.” This gets everyone’s attention. “Usually a Beater’s priority is to keep the Bludgers away from their team and knock the opponents off their brooms by consequence. A defensive strategy with a backup offense by random chance. We’ll do the opposite. We’ll actively search for and aim them at the Slytherins. Whatever formation they have, even if it’s head-on, will be broken. It’s a flexible plan, completely based on opportunity. Wherever we are, wherever they are, Bludgers will go after them.”

The team breaks into smiles, but before anyone can comment, Doyeon says, “And it’s all Connor’s idea.”

“That’s brilliant,” Kelsi beams, patting Connor on the shoulder.

The Beater is taller than the Captain, but he looks like a small, bashful boy with blushing cheeks. “It’s nothing,” he says, scratching the back of his neck.

“But that means less focus on the team. It’ll be up to everyone to be more attentive and dodge when necessary,” their Keeper and Zoe’s twin brother, Zack, reminds them.

“I think we can handle ourselves,” Alek laughs.

They break and get into position. The Hufflepuffs set up like they usually do at the beginning of the match, but some Slytherins make their way across the pitch near Hufflepuff’s goalposts.

“They must already have a play in mind. Stay sharp,” Alek says in passing.

Just as Doyeon offers some encouraging words to Connor, two burly Slytherins bump into her. She would’ve toppled over if it weren’t for Connor catching her from behind. Rubbing her sore shoulder, she side-eyes the retreating green figures.

“Trenton and Corsair. Nastiest Beaters I’ve ever played against. In reality, the rest of their team are pretty decent people. But their co-Captain attitude intimidates and influences the others. It makes the Slytherins a bit arrogant with their strength. They push the rules to the limit and don’t mind penalties,” Connor warns.

Once everyone is in position, Madam Hooch puts the Quaffle back into play and the teams take off immediately. The Beater-offensive strategy works for a good while. Sometimes Doyeon and Connor fly around aimlessly. It throws off the Slytherins because they are constantly on the lookout for incoming projectiles. The “enemy” manages to score ten points, but Hufflepuff pulls far ahead with a total of five more goals.

“Zoe, got eyes on the Snitch?” Kelsi asks as the team gathers in mid-air.

“Yes, Captain,” Zoe yells from above, eyes never leaving the far end of the pitch.

“We’re one goal short of first place. As soon as you hear the score, capture it!” Zoe gives her an okay sign.

“Beaters, kick it up a notch. They’re going to do whatever they can to keep us from scoring. At this point, they won’t mind feinting collisions. Their Keeper is good enough to deal with penalties by himself. Drive a Bludger in their direction, at any player, anywhere, at every chance you get.”

Doyeon and Connor nod in understanding. Kelsi praises Zack for the awesome defense he’s put up so far and asks him to hang on a bit longer. She then leads the others to the boundary line where a Slytherin waits to throw in the Quaffle. Someone pulls up next to Doyeon, blocking her path to the other side of the pitch.

“Be careful. This is about to get much more aggressive. Those other Beaters are vicious, and it doesn’t have to involve knocking people out of the air. They’re getting a lot more verbal. Sometimes that’s more dangerous.”

Puzzled, Doyeon watches Zack fly back to guard the goalposts. Earlier she saw Trenton and Corsair flying around the scoring zone and Zack looked uncomfortable, rigidly guarding the three hoops when there wasn’t even a Chaser in sight. She wonders what on earth they could have said to him. Putting it aside, she tracks down a Bludger when the shrill sound of a whistle signals the start.

Slytherin has the Quaffle, but Hufflepuff is putting up a good defense. Tobias keeps signaling to get a Bludger into play. The Slytherin head Chaser catches this and motions his own team into action. Doyeon tries to warn Tobias, but someone crashes into her right side, nearly unseating her from her broom. She flies outward to put some space between them and sees Corsair closing in again. Doyeon flattens against her broom and descends just enough to avoid colliding again.

“Wha’s this? Can’t even handle a lil’ bop on the nose? Yer in the wrong place, princess,” he cackles above her.

Doyeon ignores his words and puts some distance between them again. Chancing a look at him, she sees something gold flash in the sunlight. She squints and accelerates towards the Bludger she was chasing. Corsair might have a better broom, but she’s lighter. She reaches the iron ball before him and whacks it towards someone in green robes. She doesn’t know who and she doesn’t care. Everyone reverses direction so that must mean Hufflepuff is in possession now.

This makes the Slytherins angry, very angry. Corsair catches up to her in no time and Trenton traps her in from the left. They crush her between them and fly straight into the stands, breaking away just seconds before collision. Thankfully, Kelsi added Doyeon to the team, even as a reserve member, because she’s incredibly agile. She forces herself into a roll and corkscrews down, narrowly dodging the wall protecting the spectators.

In the meantime, Connor had hit a Bludger towards the other team three times, but nobody has had a clear opportunity to score yet. Trenton backtracks to Doyeon while he sends Corsair off to deal with Connor. Doyeon heads for the open sky to have room to maneuver. She thinks she’ll need it if players are directly going after her now.

In the middle of her ascent, something clamps onto the tail of her broom and throws it completely off its flight path. It feels like the magic has been sucked out of it. Her stomach lurches at the sensation of free falling.

“Where’s that puny Runt now?! Don’t worry, you’ll see her in the hospital wing soon enough!” A deep voice yells.

As sick as Doyeon feels, she holds her broom close and falls into the slipstream of a Bludger diving straight down. When she’s close enough, she kicks herself back onto her broom and pulls up, smoothly following the ball flying parallel to the ground. Trenton suddenly appears fifty feet in front of her coming in the opposite direction. Without thinking, she speeds up and knocks the Bludger in his direction. Despite his attempt to dodge it, it splinters the branches of the broom tail.

Doyeon thinks she’s home free while Trenton deals with his malfunctioning broom. She goes off to find another Bludger but someone crashes into her head-on. Doyeon winces when she feels the handle of one of their brooms jam into a spot just under her ribs. They both topple onto the grass, rolling until they naturally come to a stop.

“Foul! Foul! What does it take to keep a nice, clean game going?” Madam Hooch shouts over everyone.

Kelsi and Tobias lift Doyeon up by the elbows and check her over for injuries. Kelsi accidentally pushes too hard on a spot of flesh and Doyeon hisses in pain.

“It’s not a broken rib thankfully, but there will a huge bruise,” Kelsi mumbles.

“I’m fine, I can keep playing. We’re not losing this,” Doyeon says with determination.

“Keep yer Mudblood chained up! Ain’t just useless, yer an annoyin’ lil’ prick! How the hell are ya flyin’ that thing?! Damn waste of space,” Corsair roars, spitting on the ground at Doyeon’s feet.

This sends the Hufflepuff team into a fury. They start ganging up on Corsair, his own team shoving them away. Kelsi yells about unjustified remarks and a Slytherin Chaser howls back at her for having a team of weak, sore losers with no backbones. Madam Hooch’s attempts at bringing order to the pitch are lost among the fighting.

Despite all the noise, Doyeon hears nothing except a very high-pitched buzz in her ears. Her eyes are trained on one person, his golden canine glinting under the sun. A shudder runs down her spine. Zoe, who has taken over in keeping Doyeon standing upright, feels this and asks if she’s alright. Doyeon nods slightly.

“Wait, Doyeon, I don’t think you should…” Zoe squeaks.

Doyeon breaks free from Zoe’s grasp and limps towards the fight, eyes ablaze. Wordlessly, she grabs onto Tobias’ raised fist and pulls him away. She tugs on Kelsi’s elbow and turns her around, walking away from the Slytherins with her team in tow.

“Give up?! Yeah, keep walkin’ back to yer hole in the dirt, where ya belong, ya—”

“We’d like to win the Cup some time this century, if you don’t mind. So quit spouting nonsense and either pick up your broom or clear off the pitch.”

The Hufflepuff team stares at Doyeon in awe. Her voice had never been so strong and sharp, and she had never talked back to anyone. Even Kelsi feels intimidated by the commanding tone coming from the skinny kid who’s been quiet all year. Doyeon prepares herself to take flight and the rest follow along, but not without some not-so-subtle cussing from the other team.

Alek takes the penalty shot but the Keeper blocks it easily, much more alert after the shouting match. The game continues immediately with tensions rising. Doyeon tries to concentrate on setting up opportunities for her team to score, but the Slytherin Beaters are dead set on badgering her. Connor tries to knock a Bludger in between them, but they swat it away like a fly. Despite this, Doyeon manages to escape in the short time they were distracted. This sets them off. Trenton whips around to give hell to Connor, who nods once at Doyeon and takes off down the pitch.

Doyeon speeds up knowing Corsair will catch up to her soon. Time is of the essence. She doesn’t look back and focuses on whacking a Bludger at Slytherin’s Keeper as Kelsi closes in on the goalposts. Just as her club makes contact, something slams down hard on Doyeon’s broom right behind where she’s sitting. Her hit is off angle and the Bludger flies way above the Keeper. Slytherin saves the goal and now they’re in possession. Flying around the bend, she comes face to face with Corsair, his bat raised high in the air.

“Tell me when ya can’t take it no more, nasty vermin,” he sneers.

“You’re going to have to send me to St. Mungo’s if you want me to forfeit,” Doyeon declares.

“Ooh, tha’s a promise, deary,” Corsair whispers greasily before she dives for the ground. He’s quick to follow after.

Doyeon swerves to avoid Trenton chasing after Connor just above the grass and she cuts upward in the middle of the pitch, inadvertently blocking a Slytherin Chaser’s path. Cursing at Doyeon, she drops the Quaffle onto the pitch, which rolls into Tobias’ arms as he sweeps low across the lawn.

Doyeon pays greatly for that. A Bludger flies on Doyeon’s right, but Corsair pulls up on its other side, seemingly to hit it before her. She winds up her arm, but Corsair knocks her club away instead of the bewitched iron ball. The force of the hit shocks Doyeon’s arm, temporarily paralyzing it. Madam Hooch is flying by the far goalposts, so Corsair takes the chance to kick Doyeon’s broom tail, throwing her off course.

“Quit breaking every rule in the sport! What, don’t have enough skill to play without fouls?” Doyeon shouts when she regains her balance.

“Tough words, where was that talkin’ when ya were lyin’ helpless on the ground? Ready ta fight now that yer weak puppy can’t get hurt? That Runt cain’t even defend herself, cain’t even cuss us out!” Corsair goads her on.

“Yoojung is NOT weak! She’s more courageous and honorable than you and your crony will ever be!” Doyeon cries across the sky with anger.

“Can’t hear ya over that Runt yowlin’ so loud. HAHAHA! Aye, I heard she’s got a nice crack in ‘er skull. Watch it if ya don’t want ‘er to get another, or it’ll be all yer fault, again! It’s all you, ya stupid Mudblood! Both a’ you’s can go ta h—”

Corsair stops cackling abruptly when Doyeon surges forward straight towards him. He swings his bat up to strike at Doyeon, not caring that it’s an open act of violence. What stops him is when Doyeon passes him two inches to the right of his head. A deafening _crack _rings in his ears. He almost loses his balance from the sudden noise shock. Looking over his shoulder, he notices a Bludger shoot straight off between two spectator towers before circling around the pitch perimeter back into the game. He looks back at Doyeon, who’s staring directly into his eyes with a hardened glare.

“Th—” Corsair’s face screws up in ultimate disgust at the thought of thanking someone like Doyeon, at the thought of being in her debt for anything.

Doyeon scoffs. “Despite my personal opinion, you’re a human being and I don’t stand idly by while others suffer.”

Without another word, she flies to join the action twenty feet below. Doyeon pulls up next to Connor, who’s protecting Zoe. He sends a Bludger off towards Trenton on the other side of the pitch.

“We’ve yet to score a goal! Their Seeker won’t let me out of his sight!” Zoe shouts over Connor.

“Trenton’s going after Zoe on their Chaser’s orders. I can’t leave her,” Connor adds, preparing to hit another incoming Bludger.

“I’m on it,” Doyeon says simply and breaks off to defend the Hufflepuff Chasers.

Kelsi, Tobias, and Alek are already in motion to confuse the Slytherin holding the Quaffle by weaving in and out of everyone. The players look like a swarm of killer bees from afar. Before Doyeon has a chance to help out, Tobias catches the falling Quaffle and jets down the pitch, the others zooming after him. Doyeon follows in their wake, avoiding the aggressive emerald-clad Chasers while looking for a nearby Bludger. One is too far way back at the Hufflepuff goalposts. The other however, is right behind Connor. He lets go of his broom handle to reach back and hits it inward. Doyeon takes this opportunity to rebound the Bludger and puts all her strength into swinging her club. She beats the Bludger straight down the center line of the pitch, aiming for the lead Slytherin Chaser gaining on Kelsi, who has the Quaffle.

Doyeon hovers in place watching the scene unfold in slow motion. A good fifteen feet from the Chaser she was targeting, the area is completely clear of other players. Out of nowhere, the second Bludger cuts perpendicularly across the pitch. Corsair comes a millisecond later, Doyeon’s Bludger pummeling him straight in the gut. He’s thrown off his broom and knocks into the Slytherin Chaser in the lead. The Chaser’s broom becomes vertical and whips an oncoming Trenton square in the face. The two other Chasers speed up to catch Trenton and Corsair in the air, the third Chaser mounting his broom in his fall and taking off down the pitch. He shouts at the Keeper to pay attention, but it distracts him instead. Kelsi forgoes the fake throws and launches the Quaffle through the center Slytherin goalpost with all her might. The student commentator relays the score, “a hundred forty to eighty” blasting across the stands. Doyeon cranes her neck around to see Zoe clamp her hands around the Golden Snitch, Connor on her six. Madam Hooch blows the whistle and the crowds of yellow and black erupt in a wave.

When Doyeon descends onto the pitch, she’s immediately pulled into a group hug by Kelsi. The team’s cheers are muffled over each other’s, but resonate loud in Doyeon’s ears. The pure energy buzzing in the air is nothing like she’s ever felt before. Adrenaline still pumps through her veins as she high-fives Zoe and Zack and claps Alek on the back. Tobias lifts her up in a hug, twirling her in the air. Doyeon lands unsteadily on her feet just when Kelsi spins her around and squeezes the air out of her lungs while squealing in joy. The rest of the Hufflepuffs in the crowd stampede onto the pitch, surrounding the team and conjuring confetti bombs and sparks from their wands.

With her arm still around Doyeon’s shoulders, Kelsi pulls her in to shout over the celebrating. “You were absolutely magnificent today. I’m so glad you’re in our house and on the team. You’re a wonder, Doyeon Kim, and I’m proud of you.”

Doyeon reflects Kelsi’s radiant smile and opens her mouth to say something, but Tobias reels them in for a team victory chant. They rock back and forth on the balls of their feet, arms across shoulders linking them in a circle, the rest of the Hufflepuffs and their fellow supporters joining in. Everyone gets so pumped up, they eventually break apart and jump on their own. Doyeon turns on her heels to find Yoojung, Somi, and Sohye weaving through the crowd. Doyeon runs up to them and lifts Yoojung up by the waist, Somi and Sohye attempting to lift Doyeon up too and failing. Eventually, the crowd makes just enough space for Professor McGonagall to walk to the center and present the Captain with this year’s Quidditch Cup, a majestic badger magically engraved on the plate with a list of the team players’ names. Kelsi raises it triumphantly and the crowd roars with laughter and cheers.

~|~|~|~

A week after the last Quidditch match of the season, Somi comes running up to Doyeon in the corridor.

“Doyeon! You’ll never believe what I heard!” She exclaims, shaking Doyeon by the shoulders.

“You know those two idiots from Slytherin, the Beaters you said Stunned you and Yoojung? Well, they—”

“Ah, Miss Jeon,” says a clear voice from behind. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor steps out of the staff room. “I see you’re well again, walking around, chatting and gossiping. Seeing as you’ve recovered from—food poisoning, was it?—I believe it is in order for you to complete your exam. It’s not fair if you get too much extra time after everyone else in the year has taken it. I would say now’s a good a time as any. Follow me, please.” His eyes glint knowingly.

Somi gapes like a flounder at Doyeon, who restrains herself from laughing in her friend’s face. She pats Somi on the rear and ushers her to follow the professor to his office. Doyeon continues toward the back of the castle for a hidden shortcut to the greenhouses. As soon as she turns the corner into an open courtyard, someone crushes her in a bear hug. Even though her internal organs are fusing involuntarily, she feels this person is being genuinely kind. Still…

“Air… and… personal… space! Hey!” She wheezes.

“Sorry!” Comes a male voice.

Instead of backing up to speak properly like Doyeon expected, the boy drops to the floor on his knees and bows his head at her feet.

“Uh, this is really unnecessary. Who are you?” She says awkwardly, checking around the courtyard for passing students. “Come on dude, get up. It’s fine, just you know, don’t be so touchy with strangers,” she urges, tugging on his arm when he doesn’t move.

“Please stand up…” She groans quietly with a helpless tone, barely moving her lips.

The boy finally gets off the ground and lifts his head. Doyeon is shocked into silence. She recognizes the familiar handsome visage of Xerxes, the Slytherin student who initially backed Yoojung into a wall. The setting sun peeking over the roof of the castle into the courtyard gives his profile a warm glow. More noticeable than his good looks however, Doyeon sees that he is relaxed, smiling, and happy. He looks nothing like the two-faced boy she encountered previously, the one who panicked one second and become stoic and threatening the next.

“I, um, thank you,” he says shyly.

Yet again, Doyeon is surprised. “For what?” She asks suspiciously.

“Corsair and Trenton,” he answers simply.

Doyeon remembers Somi was about to tell her something when they were interrupted. “What happened to them?”

“You don’t know? Everyone’s been talking about it.” Xerxes looks at her with a confused, puppy-like expression. It’s absolutely adorable and Doyeon feels conflicted for thinking so.

“No. After our win, our common room has been bombarded by nightly parties. And all day I’ve been stuck revising for final exams before term ends,” Doyeon explains.

“Oh. Well,” Xerxes looks around the courtyard, as if searching for someone else to tell Doyeon, but the place is empty. “During the match, your last blow knocked them out cold. They were sent to the hospital wing obviously, but it was actually pretty bad. Not that it was your fault or anything!” He says hastily when Doyeon’s eye twitches. “I mean, Madam Pomfrey can mend anything…” He trails off.

Doyeon sees him deflate at the mention of the school matron. They both know what Xerxes is referring to by praising Madam Pomfrey’s healing skills. Doyeon coughs awkwardly but has long ago decided there’s more to this boy than meets the eye.

“So how are they?” She asks, not at all curious as long as they’re alive, but it’s for Xerxes’ sake.

“They’re still in bad shape. It is a Bludger after all, and for some dumb reason or another, Corsair wasn’t wearing his gear. Must’ve been his cockiness, thinks he’s too good to ever be hit. Anyway, they’ve both been transferred to St. Mungo’s, even though Madam Pomfrey insisted she could patch them up at the castle.”

“Who ordered that?” Doyeon questions, actually intrigued now.

“Their fathers. The Corsairs and Trentons are rich, entitled families, with long lines of Purebloods. A long line of arrogance is more like it. Their fathers heard about what happened and sent their sons back to London, furious that the school would allow their children to end up in such a state. Everyone tried explaining that it’s just the nature of Quidditch. I mean literally any of the staff could have helped heal them, but I guess it’s not good enough. Their fathers were so offended at what they considered to be ‘indifferent and preferential care’ by the professors, they declared their sons would be transferred to Durmstrang.”

Doyeon just stands there, speechless. How on earth did her trying out for Quidditch back in September end up with two students being sent to the nation’s wizarding hospital and transferring schools? She feels ecstatic, they’ll never bother Yoojung or her again. But what does this have to do with Xerxes? Doyeon’s eyes widen slightly in realization. She vaguely remembers Xerxes reluctantly holding his wand to her throat, telling her not to interfere or else _they_ will get to him. Did he mean the two Slytherin sixth-years?

“Corsair and Trenton bullied you.” Doyeon slaps her hands over her mouth with a resounding _smack_, horrified that she said that out loud.

“Yeah, they did, since first-year.” Xerxes looks at the ground, ashamed. “I wanted to say thank you, and I’m sorry. Thank you because they’re not here anymore to coerce me, or any of the other decent Slytherins, into pushing around other students and acting like we own the wizarding world. My brother was sorted two years ago and he’s been having a rough time too. I know you didn’t injure them on purpose, but it did happen and it definitely affects me. Relief isn’t something you usually feel when people get hurt, but honestly speaking… Um, just, thank you.”

Doyeon feels extreme pity for him. He and his brother suffered by being the top dogs. That’s not a story you hear every day. They might not be on the receiving end of a nasty prank or spell, but they had to fight with their conscience every time they did it for fear of the consequences. And being teenagers, everything was a consequence, everything was dramatic, and everything mattered even if it didn’t. It was confusing and scary and they didn’t want to deal with it. The only way not to, was to be right at the center of it.

“And I’m sorry because none of that excuses what I put you and your friend through. She was just walking alone, she was the perfect target and they pushed me outside to confront her. They were getting impatient. They were going to go back inside and leave me, but I saw my brother in the corridor by himself. I didn’t want them to get any ideas and drag him in too, so I said I’d do it. But I should’ve been like you, I should’ve stood up to them. Maybe you two wouldn’t have been hurt. I felt awful when I heard what happened but I couldn’t dare face you two after that.” He falls silent, having run out of words.

Doyeon takes a deep breath. She wants to mean what she says next. It’s difficult. “It’s okay,” she says slowly. She barely wills herself to say it while managing not to _force_ it out. She processes everything Xerxes just told her. “It’s okay,” she's repeats with more finality.

“What?” Xerxes says, obviously not expecting to have been forgiven so easily.

“You’re right, that doesn’t excuse you for helping them attack my friend and me. But you felt like you had no choice, no control. And you only realized you did after the fact. But you also have to realize it would have never been easy to act in the moment, even knowing what you know now. I’ve… I’ve been there before, felt something like it. It takes time and the right people to help you fight your battles. And it takes acceptance to realize not all of your battles need to be fought.”

“What do you mean battles don’t need to be fought?” Xerxes says, tilting his head. The sunlight frames his jaw perfectly.

“That’s the fun part, figuring out what your battles are and what you’re going to do with them,” Doyeon smiles.

Xerxes nods slowly, trying to understand. “I couldn’t say no to the older students, so I just sat back and let them control me. But now that they’re gone, I can do what I want. And I wanted to speak to you, to tell you how sorry I am.”

“And I’m thankful, honestly,” says Doyeon.

“One battle down,” Xerxes laughs.

“One battle down,” Doyeon repeats encouragingly.

~|~|~|~

“What’s up, buttercup?” Glistening blue bubbles float around the table isolated by towering bookshelves.

“You’re so odd,” Yoojung laughs quietly and turns to the next page.

“Is that bad?” Doyeon asks, taking a seat next to her friend.

“Never. It’s fantastic,” Yoojung says. She puts her book down and fully turns to face Doyeon. “You.”

“Me!” Doyeon squeaks with a wide grin, hopping in her seat when she speaks.

Yoojung pokes her in the stomach. “You’re acting different.” She leans back in her chair, inspecting Doyeon from head to toe.

“How so?” Doyeon mirrors Yoojung’s posture.

Yoojung reaches down into Doyeon’s messy bag and pulls out some crumpled pieces of parchment. Smoothing them out, she lays them on the table in order. Yoojung takes a moment to admire the neat, organized handwriting. She marvels at the thoughtful notes and reminders written in the margins with arrows pointing to what they refer to.

“You’re a life-saver, according to Heather. She said to thank you, and tell you she’s sorry. Well, she said a lot more than that, but I don’t think I could ever really capture her thoughts.” Yoojung tries to keep her face straight when Doyeon snaps her head in her direction. “I think you should go see her one last time before we go back to London, so she can speak for herself.”

Doyeon sees for once that Yoojung is trying to gauge her thoughts and is struggling. But Doyeon’s mind is already made up. “It’s ok, I think I got the message just fine,” she smiles.

Yoojung leans forward to prop her elbow on the table. “I’m blunt, I’m curious, but I don’t want to be rude too. And you know it.”

In other words, Yoojung wants to know why she did a favor for some stuck-up girl who seemed to thrive off insulting others. Doyeon grins easily. “Heather was the epitome of ‘having a breakdown’ that morning. So I gave her my notes,” she explains.

“Just like that?” Yoojung raises her eyebrow.

“Just like that.” Doyeon snaps her fingers on the last word. “You don’t think she deserved it,” she guesses.

“Not exactly…” Yoojung shifts her gaze to her book on the table.

“Then you think it should’ve been harder, or it should’ve taken a bit more for me to give in.”

Yoojung thinks for a bit. “Something like that,” is all she can come up with.

Doyeon sighs. “It’s not like I forgave her at the drop of a hat. But she was just so desperate, she was at her wits’ end. I know she doesn’t _seem_ to care about anyone else, but—” She tries to find the right words.

“How often does ‘seeming’ equate to ‘being’?” Yoojung wonders. “And how often do people care enough to ask that?”

“Exactly.” Doyeon’s lips quirk up at how Yoojung immediately grasps the situation. “Yeah, she was mean, but maybe she felt like that’s all she could be. Maybe she felt like there was no room to be any other way. She couldn’t afford to be friendly or nice or sociable. She felt like she had to do it all on her own, rise to the top and fight to the death to stay there.”

“Not the best mentality to have,” Yoojung says sadly.

“No, it’s not, and she stewed in that way of thinking her whole life.” Doyeon lowers her eyes to the table at the slightly somber mood of the conversation.

“And you understood all of that just because she screeched bloody hell in the Great Hall about her ruined Transfiguration notes?” Yoojung asks.

“Believe it or not, yeah, I guess I did,” Doyeon shrugs. “She might have been screaming and crying that morning, but there was something so pitiful about her normally nasally and irritating insults.”

Yoojung watches her carefully. “What was it?”

Doyeon looks right back at her, asking for understanding through her eyes more than her words. “She had no one.”

This makes Yoojung speechless for the first time since she started talking to Doyeon. She doesn’t know how to respond, what to ask. She just waits.

“Nobody backed her up. Nobody fought with her. Everyone just went silent. The boy asked if she was okay, but it was out of guilt and fear. He didn’t really care about her emotional state. He just wanted the situation to be dealt with. But that’s not what Heather needed. For once in her life, she needed someone to be there for her and tell her it’s okay to try. Not win, but _try_.”

Yoojung nods slowly at Doyeon’s insight.

“I’m lucky enough to have that one person. She’s my ride or die.” Doyeon smiles at Yoojung, who mirrors her expression. “To have someone on standby when you just can’t take it anymore, ready to sweep up the pieces of you and glue you back together without complaint. I thought Heather should know what that feels like even if only for a moment.”

“You’re quite the unconventional hero,” Yoojung smirks lazily. “Speaking of which, Nick’s in the same boat?”

Doyeon chuckles. “Yeah, turns out he’s not as much of a dunce as we thought. He’s just a little lost. He stuck to what he knew but that path’s been so trodden on, it leads to nowhere special by now.”

“If the path’s been trodden on, wouldn’t it lead to somewhere? Where everyone before went to?” Yoojung muses.

“If the first person got lost, and everyone after them was stubborn enough to stick to the one path already made, wouldn’t they be lost too? And who’s to say that’s the place you’re looking for anyway? But if you’re stubborn enough, you won’t go on any other path.”

“So you told him to make a new path?”

“He doesn’t need a new path, per se. That’s a bit too adventurous and risky for a lot of people. But maybe looking around for other ones isn’t such a bad idea.”

“He might end up somewhere better than what he was looking for.” Doyeon silently nods in agreement. “On the other hand, some people might take a road, where it diverges to a murky rushing river or a rocky mountain cliff. But just on the other side is the place they’re looking for, beautiful and glorious and exactly how they imagined it to be,” Yoojung continues.

“We’re not talking about Nick anymore, are we?” Doyeon squints one of her eyes at Yoojung suspiciously.

“A little birdie told me you’ll be playing Quidditch next year, and not as a Beater.”

“Is that birdie flightless and native to the Antarctic?”

“Maybe. Sometimes that birdie is a shark too, but that’s up for debate,” Yoojung giggles.

“That must mean Somi knows by now too. She stole my thunder,” Doyeon growls half-heartedly.

“She didn’t tell me much though. So spill.” Yoojung taps Doyeon’s knee once.

“There was a particularly raucous party in the dormitory two nights ago. The seventh-years snuck in some Firewhisky and even the plants in the common room joined in the singing and dancing. They really shouldn’t have the tolerance to withstand how much alcohol was poured into their pots. Needless to say, the Quidditch Cup is still shining valiantly on our fireplace mantel. It was late so I was on my way to my room when Tobias invited me to have one last Butterbeer for the night.”

Yoojung is listening intently to the story when Doyeon suddenly stops and just smiles, remembering the conversation clear as crystal. She snaps out of it and continues to share.

“He found out early that he’ll be Captain next year, after Kelsi’s gone. He asked if I was still interested in being on the team. Of course, the tradition is to have everyone, former and new members, try out. But he said I’d have a pretty good chance of making Chaser, especially since we’ve been practicing together all year and my skills have improved by leaps and bounds.”

By now, Doyeon’s grin is so wide, it feels like her face will split in two. Yoojung lunges out of her seat to hug Doyeon in congratulations. Luckily the floor is carpeted, so her chair doesn’t scrape against the wood and they’re still as quiet as possible. Doyeon holds Yoojung tightly by the waist so the girl doesn’t fall out of her lap.

“I’m so proud of you. Being the bigger person, helping colleagues in need, achieving your teenage dreams. My Doyeonie has grown up so well.” Yoojung cradles Doyeon’s head affectionately, wiping away a fake tear, though genuinely happy for her best friend.

“Question,” Doyeon mumbles into Yoojung’s shoulder.

“Shoot,” Yoojung whispers into Doyeon’s hair.

“If you think I’m changing, does that still make me Doyeon?”

Yoojung tightens her hold. “Change, growth, refinement, call it whatever you want. But all of it is Doyeon, past, present, and future. There’s just more to add to my best friend now.”

Doyeon laughs and pats Yoojung’s back. “Hey, I think you should get in on this too. You’ve helped me so much, it’s only fair if I return the favor.”

Yoojung lets go of Doyeon’s head and slightly leans back to look at her. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve got a strong heart, one of pure gold, and a strong mind to go with it. Your friends can see that. But I think it’s about time they heard it too. It’s about time they heard _you_.”

Doyeon is beaming at her so brightly, Yoojung doesn’t notice the anxiety creeping up her spine. Not until someone sneezes and knocks a couple books down from the other side of the bookshelf does she start shivering. Doyeon holds her tightly. Just like Yoojung did for her, she wants to make Yoojung feel safe enough to venture out of her comfort zone. Because Doyeon feels selfish keeping Yoojung’s voice all to herself.

After Yoojung takes some deep breaths and stops shaking like a leaf, Doyeon gently nudges her off her lap. They stand and walk over to peek through the hole in the line of books. Sitting on the ground on the other side of the shelf were their two friends and housemates. Somi is pinching her nose with one hand and covering her mouth with the other, eyes tightly closed, ears straining to hear. Sohye has her own hands slapped over Somi’s, muffling any squeaks or squeals even more, her eyes wide as saucers staring at the taller girl in shock.

Doyeon clears her throat conspicuously. Somi and Sohye slowly turn their heads to face the Cheshire grin framed in gaping hole. The three giant tomes that used to occupy the space are now sprawled over their legs like a blanket.

“I swear we weren’t listening!”

“We didn’t know you were there!”

“We always sit on the floor between random bookshelves!”

“So that Madam Pince can’t chase us out!”

“See? Chocolate Frogs and Sugar Quills! We’re hiding from her, honest!”

“Please don’t be mad!”

Doyeon nearly explodes into laughter at Somi and Sohye shout-whispering excuses. Then she feels Yoojung’s back stiffen. Doyeon smiles and grabs Yoojung’s hand in hers, squeezing it encouragingly. Yoojung looks back at her with what seems like a blank stare, but Doyeon notices her pupils shaking.

“I’m right here. You taught me to accept myself. So now I want you to take a leap of faith. Let your voice be heard by the people you love,” Doyeon whispers into Yoojung’s ear. Doyeon already feels her chest swelling with pride.

Somi and Sohye wait with bated breaths, not wanting to miss a single peep. They’re half anxious about putting the spotlight on Yoojung, which they know the girl abhors, but are half excited to be let into her inner circle. Hearing Yoojung speak is a privilege. It’s a precious one they will never force out of her but one they will treasure if they get the opportunity.

With a final squeeze of Doyeon’s hand for assurance, Yoojung cautiously leans forward through the hole in the bookshelf.

“H… Hi… Somi… Sohye…” Yoojung squeaks courageously.

~|~|~|~

There is a fine line between individuality and abnormality. Doyeon has been teetering on that line for so long, but she’s learnt not to care anymore. Someone came along and meticulously scrubbed it away. Now all she sees is clear, clean, flat ground. No more balancing, no more wondering, no more waiting. She sprints forward and decides she’s never going to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from original post on AFF:
> 
> It's taken me nearly two months for all four parts. I never knew how long it took to write a single paragraph or one scene of dialogue when I actually have to do something instead of being a couch-potato for 18 hours a day. But still, I invested a lot into this story and I really hope you guys like it! Cheers!


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